


A Blameless Home

by ice_hot_13



Series: "A Ruinous Gravitation" Verse [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-27 23:24:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/667648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ice_hot_13/pseuds/ice_hot_13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan has been in love with Aaron for years. It's the only good thing in his life until it ruins everything, leaves him with absolutely nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is A Ruinous Gravitation from Ryan's POV! If you want to read that first it's here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/357307 and while it's not necessary to read that first, I think I recommend that.

            There’s always been something.   
            It took Ryan years before he could put a name to it, but there was always something different in the way he felt about Aaron. One of his first memories is watching Aaron, waiting for his pass across the ice, and nearly seventeen years later, Ryan’s still watching, still waiting for anything Aaron will give him. That first memory, he can’t ever recall the rest of the people he knows must have been there; it’s just him and Aaron on the ice, just them, and Ryan’s favourite days are the ones that feel like that.   
            Ryan’s been looking forward to today since they planned it a week ago. They’d been studying in the Forestry building, Aaron watching the falling snow outside the window. “We should go snowboarding again,” Aaron had said, and Ryan had spent the rest of the day biting back a smile, unaffected by a surprise quiz and freezing wind and forgotten homework, none of it could touch him. Aaron’s always made him feel like that, invincible, sustained by something that will always be his.   
            This, this is the kind of thing he lives on.   
            “Okay,” Aaron says as they stand in line for the ski lift, “what’s your bet?” Ryan pauses in pulling on his gloves, one held between his teeth as he tugs on the other.   
            “Australian,” he says around it. Aaron takes the glove Ryan’s biting down on, puts it on for him as Ryan digs in his jacket pocket with the other hand.   
            “I bet one ‘when do you close today’ phone call to any store,” Aaron says, and Ryan grins; he hates calling places and talking on the phone. He finds his little piece of paper, the one listing what they owe each other in his pocket, a pen in the other. “You?”  
            “Next time we go grocery shopping, I’ll pretend to be the one without a card and you can use mine,” he says, because Aaron still hasn’t gotten around to getting his own Safeway card and always gets annoyed at having to rattle off his phone number while Ryan can just hand over his own card.   
            “Okay, let’s see,” Aaron beckons him on as it gets to their turn.   
            “You’re up next,” the attendant tells them, and she’s got an Australian accent. Aaron’s obviously trying not to laugh as Ryan scribbles down what Aaron owes him on the paper, and Aaron scoots over on his board so he’ll get the spot closer to the ski lift machine, because he knows Ryan doesn’t like that thing, same as he’s done on all the other times they’ve gone up today. Ryan loves the ski lift; it’s really slow, so it takes forever to get all the way up the mountain, and they sit so close together, so far from everyone else. Like this, it feels like the whole mountain is here for just them.   
            “Dude, you remember the first time we got off a ski lift?” Aaron laughs, and Ryan smiles, not only because he’s remembering ten-year-old Aaron sprawling into the snow, the attendant stopping the ski lift and coming to check on him; he just likes the way that so many things in his life aren’t _I,_ they’re _we,_ he isn’t alone even in memories.  
            “Hope you aren’t planning on doing that again.”  
            “You didn’t have to go and do it perfectly on your first try, you know.”  
            “Does it help that I didn’t have to actually try?”  
            “Definitely doesn’t,” Aaron rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning. “There should be an official day, when you take a break from being good at everything.”  
            “When that’s actually a problem, I’ll consider the holiday.”  
            “Let me know tomorrow, and I’ll mark my calendar.” Aaron nudges him before pushing up the bench’s bar. He puts his arm half in front of Ryan, one hand on Ryan’s hip, like he’s uncertain about this bar-lifting thing and doesn’t trust the skilift assistant’s instructions. Aaron hops off first, looks over his shoulder to make sure Ryan didn’t forget to get off or something. While he seems to hold the belief that Ryan’s good at everything, he also obsessively checks on Ryan, looks back to make sure Ryan’s following or lingering after he drops Ryan off at home to make sure he gets to the door, and he seems disoriented when he doesn’t know what Ryan’s been up to since Aaron last saw him. Like their game the week after Valentine’s Day - Aaron hadn’t gone to the Valentine’s Day game because he was sick, and Ryan had stayed home too, glad to have a paper to write. The next game, though, Aaron had seemed kind of startled to hear he hadn’t gone to the game, and his guess that Ryan had a date was laughable; Ryan’s hated every date he’s ever been on. The look on Aaron’s face, though; it was like he’d suddenly found himself in an unfamiliar place, walking into something foreign just off the path he knew by heart. He always looks like that when he finds out there’s something he doesn’t know about Ryan.   
            They don’t go down the mountain right away. Aaron sits in the snow to fix his bindings, and Ryan sinks down next to him, squinting in the bright sun.   
            “Too bad no one else could come,” Aaron remarks, and Ryan’s heart sinks a little.   
            “I didn’t ask anyone else.” He chances a glance over at Aaron, doesn’t know how to ask if he was _supposed_ to. Aaron said _we should go snowboarding,_ and to Ryan, _we_ has always meant him and Aaron. “I, uh. You know.” _I always want it to be just us,_ he can’t really say, because it’s both glaringly obvious and deeply secret.   
            “It’d be hard to have a big group anyhow, skilifts and stuff,” Aaron says, and Ryan breathes a sigh of relief. Sometimes, it feels like Aaron feels the same.   
            “Totally,” Ryan says. Aaron smiles at him, and when it’s like this, just them, Aaron saying things that are so, so close to what Ryan wants to hear, it’s hard to resist kissing him.   
            The way it feels here, the snow all around them, Vancouver spread out under the sky in the distance, it’s like all this was created just for them, and it just makes sense that they’re here together. Ryan wouldn’t want a world if it wasn’t for him to share with Aaron.   
            He leans a little closer to Aaron, and even though his heart’s pounding a little faster and his breath’s kind of shallow, he’s never felt so calm as when he’s with Aaron, and sitting next to him like this, he feels perfectly whole.   
0o0o0o0o0o  
            Ryan’s not a big fan of soccer, but he’s still happy to when Aaron suggests they watch some soccer game at a pub Wednesday morning. He gets there a little after ten because of the snow, and when he walks in, spots Aaron already at one of the booths, in the corner of the upstairs section.   
            “You missed the German national anthem,” Aaron says as Ryan goes to pull out one of the chairs across the table from him, “and dude, you can’t see if you sit over there.”  
            “Oh, yeah, huh,” Ryan says, like he wasn’t just waiting for Aaron to say it; this is part of why he loves watching sports with Aaron. It doesn’t matter that soccer’s boring as fuck – he gets to sit on the same side of the table as Aaron, right next to him. He slides into the booth next to Aaron, unzipping his jacket.   
            “Guess it started snowing,” Aaron remarks, brushes snow from Ryan’s short hair. Ryan shivers when Aaron’s fingertips skim over the edge of his ear, looks at the table so Aaron won’t see his face get hot. Aaron’s already ordered coffee for them, and while his is in a little mug, Ryan’s is in one of the tall, tapered glasses he prefers. He can’t help but smile at that, because Aaron’s been remembering details about him for years, but Ryan never loves it any less.    
            “So who’s playing?” he asks, looks around for sugar. Aaron picks out three raw sugars from the basket and hands them over.  
            “France and Germany.”  
            “For…?”  
            “It’s like a friendly match. The FIFA top 10.”   
            “Oh, huh.”   
            The waitress comes by, asks if they’re waiting for anyone else. “Nope,” Aaron replies, “it’s just us.” He grins when he says this, and Ryan looks down, worried Aaron could somehow see what he’s thinking, that he’s wondering if the waitress thinks they’re together, if they look like that. He looks at his coffee and thinks about Aaron asking the waitress for something so specific.   
            “- so let me know if you have any questions!” the waitress is saying cheerily, leaving the breakfast menus on the table. Aaron hands him one, and Ryan skims it, aware Aaron’s watching him, grinning.   
            “What?” he asks, and Aaron just points to something on the page, the Mexican Benny. “Maybe I’m picking something different, you never know.”  
            “Yes, I do.”  
            “I said maybe.”  
            “You say it, but we both know you won’t.” Aaron nudges him, grinning, and Ryan could just _die._ He loves this, loves Aaron knowing him this well and being this close, and how it’s always just the two of them.   
            “Well, you so can’t talk, because I’m a hundred percent positive you’re getting a breakfast wrap like _always.”_  
            He decides to predictable and order what Aaron guessed, because even if he didn’t, Aaron would be able to guess his second and third choices and the thought makes Ryan stupidly happy. He likes being predictable, likes that Aaron could guess everything correctly even at Ryan’s most unpredictable.   
            The game’s started by the time they get their food, and Ryan can scoot closer to Aaron so that he’s at the right angle to watch the game, so close his leg’s pressed against Aaron’s. Aaron doesn’t seem to mind a bit, because they’ve _always_ been like this.   
            “What’re you doing for the rest of the break?” Aaron asks, and Ryan shrugs a shoulder.   
            “One more paper to finish, but that’s about it. You?”  
            “Might go home for a few days. They’ve been asking me to come up, but I dunno yet. You gonna see your parents?”  
            “This weekend,” Ryan says, and the words make something in him clench up painfully. He hates lying to Aaron, has been lying to him like this for too long; he doesn’t want to be good at it, but Aaron’s never guessed that Ryan’s been keeping things from him. “So, who do we want to win, anyways, France or Germany?” he asks, before Aaron can ask anything else about the weekend. If they’re not talking about it, he doesn’t have to lie.     
            “Germany,” Aaron decides, which is good. Ryan’s not a big fan of France; Aaron once thought about moving there after graduation for grad school, and even though Aaron ended up dismissing the idea because he doesn’t need a master’s degree and can get his fill of France with a ski trip to the Alpes, thinking about it still makes Ryan’s stomach hurt. Aaron would have been gone for at least three years, and he could have ended up _staying_ because he liked it so much – Ryan had just been so relieved when Aaron said he wasn’t going, even though it’s made Ryan realise that he’s always going to live like this, on the edge of a disaster outside his control.   
            “I like Germany,” Ryan agrees, as Aaron takes the toast off Ryan’s plate in exchange for his fruit; Ryan doesn’t like this place’s wheat bread.   
            “Never been,” Aaron says, as if Ryan doesn’t know this, know everything, “we should go. Which city do you wanna see?”   
            “Well, I liked that one little town I saw.” Ryan had gone with his family, years ago, one of those memories he’s had to section into pieces, lock some away. “Like, right in the middle of Germany. Their ice cream, dude. You’d die.”  
            “Except the whipped cream,” Aaron snickers, and Ryan elbows him.   
            “I thought it was the normal kind!”  
            “Guess they don’t believe in sugar, and probably thought you guys were crazy for asking for so much of it.”  
            “Never. Again.”  
            “Don’t worry, if we get any, I’ll have it. Because I’m noble and courageous like that,” Aaron grins, and Ryan laughs, shakes his head.   
            “I think you have to slay dragons before people will call you noble and courageous.”  
            “Whatever, I’ll totally slay dragons for you too. Plus unsweetened whipped cream,” Aaron says, and Ryan kind of wants to lean over the small space between them and kiss him for it.  
            “I think one of those will come up a little more often than the other.”  
            “Where exactly do you think we’ll find so many dragons?” Aaron grins. “Oh, shit, I think France just scored – anyways, in case we for some reason can’t afford a Euro trip, any other ideas?”  
            “You gonna make me be practical?” Ryan thinks for a moment, all the little trips they’ve taken together.   
            There was surfing in Tofino, whole days spent on the beach in the sun, sitting on their boards out past the waves, where the sun glinted off the water and they tried to push each other into the water. There were trips out to the islands, sitting together on the Ferry, racing on bikes down dirt trails. There was the Sunshine Coast, when they went with a bunch of other people and usually ended up wandering off on their own together without everyone else. There was spur-of-the-moment Saskatoon, deep in snow and racing between buildings as they tried to keep warm, going somewhere with no plan in mind, like they didn’t to know what they were doing.   
            “Whistler,” Ryan decides, because Whistler was where they got a little room with only one bed and they had to share, something Ryan always loves, because he was in the same bed as Aaron, he _loved_ that. It rained that entire trip and when they weren’t getting soaked outside they were watching movies in bed, sitting close together to see the laptop screen. Whistler has always been Ryan’s favourite trip.   
            They decide to go sometime in July, when it’ll be at its sunniest, and watching Germany beat France, Ryan thinking about the way the rain slid down the windowpanes in Whistler, about the way the ocean spread out in endless miles around them in Tofino, about falling asleep on Aaron’s shoulder on the train to the coast. Ryan steals another strawberry off Aaron’s plate and listens to Aaron try and explain soccer positioning to him, wishes he were allowed to lean into Aaron’s side and tell him how it doesn’t matter where they go, because he’ll always be as happy as he is now, sitting on the same side of a table to watch a game he doesn’t have to understand to love this day.   
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o  
            Ryan’s never been able to decide how he feels about going out at night with Aaron. He loves it, of course he loves it, but it’s hard to put himself through too frequently. Girls always watch Aaron hopefully, and Ryan just doesn’t like the reminder that there are other people that like Aaron, ones who don’t know him nearly as well but are so much more likely to hold his attention like that. He’s never been able to say no to spending time with Aaron, though, so he compensates by actually drinking, which he usually doesn’t bother with much.   
            They haven’t been there long before a girl in a short black dress starts glancing over at Aaron hopefully. Aaron doesn’t actually see her, too busy talking with Drew, but Ryan can’t stand the sight of it.   
            “Another?” Garret yells over to Ryan, holding up his empty glass. Ryan nods, turns away so he can’t see the way a blonde girl is eying Aaron. He’s been looking at Aaron like that all his life, and Aaron doesn’t notice.   
            Ryan does his best not to look over, but every ten minutes or so, he’ll glance over his shoulder. It always makes him want to go over and wrap his arms around Aaron from behind, nuzzle against his neck and just be there, and it’s the sense of belonging he wants. He’s still thinking about that when Evan decides they should do shots, and Ryan keeps agreeing because he keeps thinking about the way it might feel, his chest to Aaron’s back, just breathing him in, and he can’t imagine exactly what it’d be like; he has no _idea._ And – and he wants to be over there so _bad,_ wishes Aaron were over here but doesn’t want to ask, because if he were closer, Ryan might be tempted to do something stupid.   
            When he looks over next, Aaron’s sitting on one of the couches, talking to Kelsey. There’s an empty spot next to him, though, and that obviously should belong to Ryan, so he heads over, because it should be his, but someone might take it. There’s always someone who might take his place.   
            “Hey,” he says, scooting in close next to Aaron.   
            “What’s up? They run out of shots up there?” Aaron asks, grins at him, but Ryan just shakes his head no. That wasn’t the problem, the problem was Aaron _not being there._ That’s _always_ the problem.   
            “I missed you,” he says, because – maybe if Aaron knew that, he wouldn’t stay away. Ryan doesn’t know how Aaron could ever miss it.   
            “Oh, okay,” Aaron says, but he doesn’t – he doesn’t sound all that concerned. Ryan didn’t think he would be – no one could ever miss anyone as much as Ryan misses Aaron when he’s gone, and that includes Aaron missing Ryan, if he ever even does. Maybe he does, though. _Oh,_ but Ryan wants to believe he does.  
            “You missed me, right?” he asks.   
            “Course, dude.”   
            Ryan’s not – not convinced by this, though. Aaron might miss him a little when he’s gone, but Aaron’s not _wrecked_ by it. He’s not Ryan, who feels incomplete without his best friend. Aaron just doesn’t feel that way about him.   
            “I didn’t think you would,” Ryan admits. He kind of really wants Aaron to hug him. “I don’t think you like me.” He doesn’t like saying it out loud, that makes it sound _true,_ but it is, he knows it is. He bites down on his lower lip, doesn’t want to cry.   
            “Of course I like you, don’t be stupid.”  
            “I, um. No.” He can’t _believe_ that, because Aaron doesn’t _like_ him. He doesn’t, not the way Ryan wants him to, _needs_ him to. “Why not? I think I’m okay,” he says helplessly. He really wants Aaron to hug him now.   
            “You’re great, Ryan. I don’t not like you,” Aaron says. It’s confusing, because it doesn’t make _sense,_ because Aaron _doesn’t_ like him, and Ryan wishes he _did._ And Aaron – he’s not saying that, he’s saying he likes Ryan as a friend, and Ryan knows that, wants _more._  
            “I don’t care,” he manages, because – because he can’t stop being in love with Aaron, it’s _part_ of him, because how could he not love Aaron? Aaron smiles at him in a way he doesn’t for anyone else. Aaron not liking him – that doesn’t change anything. Ryan is used to being a loose end, left without a resolution. “I mean, I do care,” he corrects, because it _hurts,_ “but I don’t. I don’t not like you because you don’t like me,” he decides.   
            “Well, I don’t not like you, so don’t worry about it,” Aaron says, and he’s not getting it, why isn’t he _getting_ it? Ryan’s _telling_ him. He’s been with Aaron all week and Aaron’s been his alone and it still wasn’t enough, Ryan can’t take needing so _much,_ has no right to ask for so much, and it’s unfair, because he’s given all this and nothing’s exactly what he wants. How can Aaron not see how in love with him Ryan is? He’s never seen Ryan look any other way.   
            _“Aaron,”_ he begs, feels like he might cry, because Aaron doesn’t get it and Ryan just wants Aaron to like him, wants to be happy with what he has, but he can’t stop being in love with Aaron, he doesn’t even know what that would feel like, just that he wouldn’t feel like _himself_ anymore. And Aaron – he doesn’t know this about Ryan, and he’s supposed to know _everything_ about Ryan, the way Ryan does for him, and Aaron doesn’t know this, this most important thing.   
            Aaron doesn’t know Ryan until he knows this, so Ryan leans over and kisses him, to introduce Aaron to his best friend the way Ryan actually is. He holds tight to Aaron’s shirt and kisses him hard and desperate, needs Aaron to understand everything, can’t stand the thought that Aaron doesn’t actually know him entirely unless he knows this.   
            “Dude, what?” Aaron says afterwards, his eyes going wide, and Ryan can’t think of anything to say that isn’t _how didn’t you notice, this entire time?_ But then, someone pulls Aaron away, and Ryan’s alone. He shouldn’t be surprised, but it’s the familiarity that hurts, makes tears well in his eyes. Someone’s always going to be there, taking Aaron away from him, and one day, Aaron won’t come back. One day, Aaron will leave, all on his own.               
            Ryan goes back over to everyone else, finds Elise among a group of people. “Are you going home soon?” he asks. She looks up, and must see something on his face that concerns her.   
            “Honey,” she exhales, shakes her head, and Ryan’s worried this means that she isn’t leaving. “Come on, I’ll drop you off.” Before they can leave, Karly decides to tag along and get a ride home, too. As she goes to get her stuff from the coatcheck, Ryan follows Elise downstairs, around the dancefloor; she’s easy to follow, her curly blonde hair nearly platinum under the lights. Outside, the cold air stings as they wait on the sidewalk.   
            “What?” Ryan asks, because Elise is looking at him like she expects something.   
            “Nothing,” she says, unzips her purse to get out her car keys. “What’s new?”   
            Ryan thinks of Aaron’s confusion, the way Aaron seemed so shocked – and Ryan loved kissing him, will never get to do it again. Already, he can’t remember the details, and he’s scared of the moment when they will all slip away. This – this made the world swing on a different axis, he _needs_ this. He needs – needs Aaron. That’s all this is saying.   
            “Nothing,” he says, and it isn’t a lie, but he still has to look down, blink away tears. This, this is why he doesn’t like thinking about it. There are two very different sides to loving Aaron. One keeps Ryan strong and one, one’s been breaking him down, two things he’s never felt separately. This is what it is to be in love with Aaron, and some nights, nights like this, all it does is hurt. 


	2. Chapter 2

            Ryan wakes up early Saturday morning, which feels like the worst kind of torture. Both of his rommates are still asleep, and the apartment is quiet as he gets dressed, decides he really doesn’t want breakfast, and leaves. By the time he gets off the ferry at Lonsdale Quay, he’s had time to regret each and every drink he had last night, six times over.   
            “Ryaaaannnn!” he hears, the only warning he gets before the seven-year-old slams into his knees.   
            “Hey,” Ryan says, grinning down at Bentley. “You guys are early.”   
            “I got a new hockey stick!” He starts tugging on Ryan’s hand, “it’s bluuuuuue.”   
            “Sounds real cool-” Ryan says, and halfway up the ramp out of the station, they’re met by two-year-old Madison, who runs at them excitedly.   
            “Up!” she shrieks, ignoring Bentley’s ongoing description of his hockey stick.   
            “Maddy, wait your _turn,”_ Bentley complains.   
            “C’mere, Maddymoo,” Ryan scoops her up, “where’s your mom?”   
            “Mum-mum,” Madison says helpfully, pointing towards the exit. Sure enough, Kate’s following the kids with the stroller.   
            “I wanted to wait for you to get here to get my stick,” Bentley says, tugging on Ryan’s jacket.   
            “Bents, your mom helped me pick out _my_ stick. She’s the best at it,” he grins at his sister, who rolls her eyes.  
            “You say it like you actually listened to my advice,” she says, pulls him over to kiss his cheek. “Insufferable brat. Now hurry up, I didn’t have change so we didn’t pay the meter.”  
            “Setting a good example for the babies?”  
            “This is a ‘do as mommy says, and not as she does’ moment. Come on.”   
            Ryan knows what Kate wants to ask him, so he agrees when Bentley begs him to sit in the backseat, and once back at the house, goes to see the new hockey gear before Kate can catch him and pull him aside. She comes and finds them in the shed anyways, stands in the doorway as Madison runs in to wrap her hands around the bars on Bentley’s helmet.   
            “Ryan,” Katie says, that _tone._ Ryan doesn’t look up; sitting on the floor with Bentley, he feels younger than he is, even more than he usually does when Kate uses that voice, the one that’s soft and sorry. “Did you talk to Mom and Dad over the break?”  
            “Gramma? Granpa?” Madison chimes in, looking up. “Come?” she asks hopefully, while Bentley ignores them in favour of digging through his little gear bag.    
            “They’re not coming this weekend,” Ryan tells Madison, taps his fingertip to the tip of her nose to make her giggle.   
            “Well, I haven’t asked them to, but-” Kate says, but Ryan shakes his head.   
            “I’m not stupid, Katie,” he says quietly. She shakes her head, sighs out a breath.  
            “C’mon, guys, lunchtime,” she says instead. “There’s lemonade,” she adds, and Bentley grins and runs for the house, Madison going after him. Kate lingers as Ryan gets to his feet, brushes off his jeans. “What’d you do this week, then?” she asks gently.   
            “Wrote papers, did homework,” Ryan says, “went to Grouse with Aaron,” he adds, can’t help but grin. “And everyone went out on Friday, and that’s pretty much it.” She smiles softly, the one he’s never been able to understand; sometimes, he thinks there’s something sad in it.   
            “Oh, Ryan,” she says, and for some reason, he’s reminded of Elise, which is weird, because she looks nothing like Kate. He’s still trying to puzzle it out as he follows Kate back to the house, but all he can remember is that he talked to her last night, but can’t recall the words.   
            They spend the evening the way they always do, which Ryan loves. He’s always loved traditions, and there aren’t many left that are still his. Madison goes to sleep, and Kate’s husband Gryf – Ryan doesn’t doubt that Kate’s fascination with the name Gryphin inspired her to choose more exciting baby names, and that Gryf’s exasperation with his strange name made her reign it in a little - had taken Bentley to a hockey game, so their evening movie choice didn’t have to be a kid’s movie. Ryan lets Katie choose some medicaly drama because she likes the actors, and only complains about believability a few times.   
            She’s not really watching, though; she’ll glance at him where he’s sprawled over his half of the couch, that look on her face, the one that he knows means there’s something she’s thinking about that she doesn’t really want to tell him.  
            “You should work on being so transparent,” he tells her, nudging her ankle with his foot. “Your kids are gonna figure it out and ‘because I said so’ will never work again.”   
            “I don’t use ‘because I said so’ as an explanation,” she says, rolling her eyes, but he knows she’s just avoiding the point now. She winds one of her dark curls around her finger, confirming the suspicion, because he can remember her doing exactly this a thousand times, the worst secret-keeper in the world.   
            “Katie, come on.”  
            “I took the kids to see Mom and Dad this week,” she finally relents. Ryan sighs out a breath.   
            “And?”  
            “And we were talking about how I signed Bentley up for hockey again, and they suggested that maybe he should do an individual sport instead.”   
            “Huh.” Ryan tries to figure out the implications of that, but there are no logical connections he can make. Katie shakes her head, that tight-lipped frown on her face that tells him he’s just not going to like this. He used to cover his ears when she got that look on her face; it’s the one she had when she was upset and angry and trying to contain it so she could tell him calmly. He didn’t used to see it so frequently.   
            “Ryan, you don’t really want to know this kind of stuff,” she says, almost pleadingly, but he shakes his head, doesn’t say anything. “They think being on a team with a bunch of guys will make him-”  
            “Don’t,” Ryan snaps, then huffs out an angry breath and rubs his hand over his face, because snarling at Kate is stupid and misdirected. “Don’t say it,” he says, but it sounds so tired and weak.   
            “Ryan-” she starts, but he’s heard this, so many times. He’s been told he has nothing to be ashamed of and nothing to blame himself for, told he’s somehow supposed to feel a set of emotions that don’t correspond to what’s happening, exist on two separate planes.          
            “I think I’m gonna get to bed,” he says instead, standing.   
            “Night,” she says softly, and when he hugs her, squeezes him extra tight. He wants to ask her if she’d still love Bentley if he did turn out like that, even though he already knows her answer would be yes, of course; he doesn’t ask because he doesn’t like admitting out loud that it’s not a given, not for everyone.   
0o0o0o

            Late Monday morning, Ryan’s back at his apartment. He’s having breakfast at the counter when Evan walks into the kitchen.  
            “Hey dude,” Evan says, but there’s this look on his face that makes Ryan arch an eyebrow. Evan’s just – staring at him, a little, kind of blinking.  
            “What’s up?”   
            “Oh, nothing,” Evan goes over to the refrigerator, “didn’t know you’d – be home today.”  
            “Well, I have class, so…” Ryan isn’t really following, but puts it aside, goes to get his backpack and jacket so he can leave for his afternoon class.   
            On his way through Buchannan to Sociology, Ryan runs into Garret, who gives him the same look Evan did, that weird, hesitant look.  
            “Uh, hey,” Ryan offers up, and Garret smiles, that odd look on his face almost completely hidden.   
            “Hey,” Garret says, but he doesn’t go on, which is weird, for super-talkative Garret.  
            “So, uh, what’s up?” Ryan has to be in class in a few minutes, but he’s just – not worried, but what the _fuck?_ Garret seems practically _nervous,_ which makes no sense.   
            “Not much, the usual. Have a good weekend?”  
            “Uh, yeah. Went home and stuff,” Ryan says, and Garret nods slowly, like this makes a difference to him at all.   
            “Oh, cool. Well, I gotta get to class. See you Tuesday, though, my team’s gonna kick yours’s ass,” Garret grins, and everything shifts back into something more normal.   
            “You wish,” Ryan replies, but he can’t quite shake the feeling. He heads off to Sociology, and when he goes into the room, he spots Aaron in their usual place. Evan and Garret being kind of weird could just be a coincidence – after all, Evan’s always got stuff going on with his on-again-off-again girlfriend that stresses him out, and Garret freaks out about due dates, so they could just be acting weird because of that. If Aaron acts like them, then, and only then, will Ryan believe something’s up. Ryan goes and pulls out the chair next to Aaron’s, drops his backpack onto the table.  
            “Hey, dude,” Ryan says, glances up at Aaron while fishing his notebook out of his backpack. Aaron’s not giving him the same look as them, so that has to be a good sign. “I’m on time, notice that?”  
            “Two minutes early isn’t exactly on time,” Aaron replies, and it’s normal enough that Ryan can breathe a little easier.  
            “Not late, either,” he says, grins at Aaron. “Man, Friday was awesome, we should do it again.”   
            “Yeah?” Aaron’s looking through his bag on the floor for a pen, doesn’t look up.   
            “Totally. I mean, I can’t remember most of it, but I’m sure that means it was fun.” Sometimes, he wishes nights out with Aaron are more like the nights when Aaron isn’t there; Ryan’s not a big fan of forgetting things he did and places he’s been, but watching other people look at Aaron like they want him, Ryan couldn’t handle remembering the details of that.   
            “Uh-huh – oh, I brought the notes you wanted to borrow,” Aaron says, “try not to lose ‘em like you lost yours.”   
            “Jerk,” Ryan rolls his eyes, takes the papers from Aaron’s hand, “thanks.” He’s not – positive that everything’s perfectly normal. There’s just something a little off, maybe. Except Aaron hasn’t told him anything, hasn’t said anything, and that’s what Ryan keeps reminding himself of throughout class, because if Aaron didn’t tell him, then there’s nothing to tell. Ryan knows the implication of this weird paranoia isn’t a great reflection of himself, that it’s painting him as edgy and insecure, doubting things that are obviously stable, that he can count on – he can’t help it, though. Stable things are rare, there’s no such thing as a guarantee. Even though Ryan’s had so many dependable things swept out from under him, that doesn’t mean he should start doubting _Aaron_ now; Aaron’s the only thing he has that’s never changed, never hurt him, and if Ryan starts doubting _him,_ it’s proof that all the horrible things that have happened have gotten to him and Ryan’s _not_ going to let that happen. He’s fine; he’s not going to allow everything he’s been through take this from him, too, the only perfect thing he has.   
            Ryan doesn’t like reminders of how very easy it is to let the ruining keep tearing at him, how it’s only barely held at bay, threatening to destroy every last scrap of confidence and security he has. The sociology lecture doesn’t offer much distraction, but after the class ends, he goes to his Shakespeare lit course, and this, this feels like coming home. This has always been the only thing that could distract him, and he’s _good_ at writing. In his opinion, English is the world’s most perfect subject – reading takes him away, lets him forget, and writing about it is impersonal, what he writes separated from him. English offers everything he needs, from the escape to the way it doesn’t matter who he is, his writing can be judged on its own and still deemed good.   
            Listening to the professor lecture about Henry V as a Machiavellian figure, Ryan doesn’t have to think about anything in his own life, just loves this feeling. In the same way that tenth-grade English gave him blissful time away from the terrifying twin discoveries of his own sexuality and his parents’ disdain for the gay rights movement happening at the time, he doesn’t have to think about how distrust can sneak in and chip at the things he knows he can count on, doesn’t have to worry that it’s broken him in more ways than he knew, doesn’t have to think about anything to do with himself at all.   
0o0o0o0o0o  
            Their game Tuesday night goes well enough for the first period They’re losing zero to one, but they haven’t given up, still making good pushes for the goal, and this other team isn’t good enough to get past Ryan and Aaron when they’re on D, so it’s not completely hopeless. Ryan turns to Aaron to tell him just that when the second period starts, but Aaron’s looking up the bench, talking to Ken. Ryan leans down to tug his laces a little tighter, and it always makes him smile, because when they were little, he and Aaron always insisted on having matching yellow laces, begging for a new pair with every bigger pair of skates.  

“I’m gonna jump up to offense,” Aaron says suddenly, and Ryan’s head jerks up. Offense. _Offense?_ Aaron doesn’t fucking _belong_ on offense, he belongs _here,_ and what the hell is he doing? Ryan wants to yank Aaron back by the jersey when Aaron stands, not let him go anywhere, but why does Aaron want to leave? He can score from their line- Ryan knows that, he’s had assists on so many of those goals. _What the fuck is he doing?_

            “I’m on it,” Jeff says, trading spots with Aaron, taking Aaron’s seat beside Ryan. Ryan stares resolutely at the boards, doesn’t look down the bench like he wants to, because _why is Aaron leaving?_  
It has to be because Aaron thinks he can score more as centre and help the team. It has to be that. Even though he scores when he’s playing next to Ryan, Ryan _helps_ him score. Aaron’s just… trying something new, Ryan tells himself, but no, that doesn’t make it any better.  
            _He’ll come back,_ Ryan thinks, and he has to believe that, he _has_ to. Aaron will come back to defense later. It’ll be fine. He’ll come back. The other team gets past Ryan and Jeff not fifteen seconds into their shift, but Aaron doesn’t come back to defense, even though Ryan feels like he’s making it embarrassingly obvious that he doesn’t play as well without Aaron. But they need each other. Ryan can’t defend, can’t score without Aaron, and they’ve always played together; Aaron plays his best when they’re together.   
            Aaron scores while Ryan isn’t on the ice.         
            _He’ll come back,_ Ryan tells himself, but can’t figure out why Aaron would leave him in the first place, because Aaron’s never done that before. _Never._  
            They still lose the game, a terrible, unsurprising two to twelve. There wasn’t a single play that didn’t get past Ryan, but no one says anything to him; his teammates seem used to this, to losing, and some part of Ryan is ashamed that he’s failed to give them anything better. He liked it, before, the way his and Aaron’s arrival to this team made them start to win games, feels like he’s breaking some kind of promise now. As they’re sitting in the locker room, Ryan tries to find the words to ask Aaron _why did you go to offense,_ but he’s positive that if he opens his mouth, all he’ll say is _why did you leave me?_  
            Dan asks for a ride home with them, and Ryan follows Aaron and Dan to the parking lot in silence, doesn’t say anything when Dan takes his spot in the passenger seat. And it just – it feels like Aaron still hasn’t come back, like he’s still up somewhere ahead of Ryan, achieving things without him, but – but that’s impossible, Ryan’s just – he’s projecting his own personal shit onto this, overreacting, Aaron’s _right here,_ it’s fine. He just wanted to play offense once. Just once, and it’s over now.      
            “See you tomorrow,” Ryan says as he gets out in front of his building, Dan still talking in the passenger seat.   
            “Uh, yeah,” Aaron says, like he’s not _sure,_ and the words leave Ryan with a chill he can’t shake for the rest of the night.   
0o0o0o0o0o  
            The next morning, Ryan gets to Sociology late so he has no time to talk to Aaron before class, but as he’s sliding into his seat, he kind of gets the feeling that Aaron doesn’t have much to say right now, anyways. He’s not looking at Ryan in that way he has, eyes lit up with everything he wants to say, and Ryan only managed to fall asleep last night after convincing himself that everything is _fine,_ but that feeling’s back, the one that burns low in his stomach, incessant and worrisome.   
            “See you in Forestry,” Ryan says after class, hates the questioning lilt at the end of the sentence.   
            “Totally,” Aaron says, and it’s _wrong,_ that Ryan feels relief at the words, because this conversation shouldn’t even have to exist.   
            His classes drag by, and normally meeting up with Aaron in the middle of the day would be his respite, but today, it’s what he’s both looking forward to and worrying over.   
            “Hey,” Elise says, as Ryan’s packing up his stuff after Victorian Lit, “can I see your notes real quick? I missed that last bit.”   
            “Uh.” Ryan looks down at his notebook, the page mostly blank; he can’t even remember what book they’ve been talking about.   
            “Or, you could borrow mine instead,” Elise smiles, shaking her head. “Jeeze, where’s your head at, sweetie?”   
            “No idea,” he says truthfully. Elise is one of the girls he’s gone out with, a single date and not anything more. She’s the only one that wanted to still be friends, treats him like there’s something adorable about him, like he’s someone to be coddled. He doesn’t get it, but doesn’t care, because he’ll never object to being treated like this, loves Elise for her motherly sweetness.    
            He gets to Forestry first, heads upstairs. They’ve been studying together here since first year; while touring the school as twelfth graders, they’d wandered off from the tour group and found this little sunlit corner, run back before anyone could find them there, wanted to keep it as just theirs. That was the moment when Ryan realised that university was going to be the same, going to be so different. He wasn’t going to outgrow his infatuation with Aaron, but this, how happy he was at the promise of something that was just his and Aaron’s in this big, unfamiliar place, it told him this isn’t over, told him this is just beginning, that he was about to feel even more for Aaron. It would be just like this, finding the place where he belongs, finding that no one recognised him there, but it was his all the same.  
            Ryan gets there first, takes his usual chair at their table. This part is set so far back in the library, he can barely even hear the other people around, hidden away by the shelves. Maybe that’s Ryan’s favourite part about here, the way they’re enclosed and hidden, where no one can see him but Aaron.   
            “Hey, dude,” Aaron greets Ryan when he shows up, and Ryan doesn’t _like_ the feeling of relief that spreads through his chest, because Aaron’s supposed to be his _given,_ Ryan isn’t supposed to feel thankful to see him again because Aaron isn’t supposed to go away.   
            They study quietly for a while, Ryan working on finding quotes for an essay and Aaron reading his textbook, highlighting and snickering at the face Ryan makes at that.   
            “I’m allowed to write in it,” Aaron says, grinning, and Ryan just sighs, throws one of his stacks of post-its at Aaron.   
            “Authors everywhere cringe.”   
            “What do you expect, from these sensitive _artists?_ They have panic attacks if the weather changes.”   
            Everything feels so, so blissfully normal, until Ryan asks if they should go watch the game at that pub tonight, and Aaron looks away and says he’s busy.  Ryan mumbles something in reply and focuses intently on his book, so he doesn’t have to see the way Aaron isn’t looking at him. Everything _was_ normal, but just like that, it’s gone, as easily as everything else that Ryan’s ever had taken from him.  
            The rest of the day goes by horribly slowly, until he’s finally back at home. It isn’t all that much better, but at least he doesn’t have to sit through class. He flips through _Henry V_ on the couch, listening to Brett and Evan making a racket in the kitchen.   
            “Lisa made Brett cookies for his birthday,” Evan says, coming through the living room, “want one?”   
            “No thanks.” Ryan isn’t exactly sure he could stand to eat anything. He’s been watching his phone all afternoon, but it hasn’t made a single noise, and it’s making him jumpy and nervous.   
            “Who said _you_ could have one, Evan?” Brett yells from the kitchen.   
            “Dude, you get to eat anything _my_ girlfriend makes for _me,_ so I can have whatever I want!”           
            “Bullshit, you hide your food!” Brett appears in the doorway, rolls eyes at Evan.

“Dude,” Evan says, taking the couch pillow and hitting Ryan’s knee with it, “Hurry up and get a girlfriend so we’ll have more decent food to steal.”

“Isn’t it sexist to assume a girl would be good at cooking?” Brett asks.

“I’m not assuming that, I’m assuming literally _anyone on Earth_ would be better than any of us,” Evan throws the pillow at Brett, “so get on that, Ryan.”

“Whatever,” Ryan huffs, sitting up and grabbing his phone off the table. He doesn’t want to sit here and listen to why he needs a girlfriend, hear them assume that’s what he wants, but how could they assume otherwise if he’s never said anything, but it’s not _fair,_ and he’s not going to sit here and wait for his phone to ring and it _isn’t_ – he stalks out of the room and closes the door to his bedroom a little too hard.

He checks his phone  and there’s nothing. _He’s just still busy,_ Ryan tells himself, but that doesn’t _help,_ because Aaron never just tells him _I’m busy,_ that just isn’t something Aaron _does._

It’s fine. Everything’s fine. Aaron would tell him if it wasn’t. He _would._

 


	3. Chapter 3

Ryan doesn’t see Aaron outside of class for the rest of the week. It’s not for a lack of trying, though; Thursday, he texted to see if Aaron was free, Friday, he asked after sociology if Aaron wanted to hang out that night,  and Saturday morning, he texted to see if Aaron wanted to go to a drop-in hockey game. The answer was no, every time, because Aaron was busy, he had plans he couldn’t get out of, he had a paper to work on. After Ryan writes back _oh ok good luck w that_ Saturday morning, he just lies there on his bed and tries not to think about how Aaron’s always asked him to read over papers to check for typos. It’s the same thing Aaron does for him, even though the paper Ryan turned in on Thursday, he just wasn’t able to ask Aaron for his usual editing.

Kate calls a few minutes later, and he can hear the kids in the background over the phone; the noise of a busy household always makes him homesick.  

“You guys busy this weekend?” he asks, after she’s told him about how Bentley spent the morning packing and repacking his hockey gear for the game today.

“Well,” Kate says, and Ryan sighs bitterly, already knows what’s coming. “Mom and Dad are here, to watch Bentley’s game – but you could still come, Ryan, Bentley would love that-”

“Katie.”

“They’re playing his friend’s team, so he’s really excited. It’ll be fun.”

“Katie…” He kind of wishes she didn’t do this, that she’d stop doing his hoping for him. He’s not stupid enough to do it for himself. For some reason, it’s really getting to him today, making him wish he actually could go out there and actually believe it wouldn’t be a disaster.

“He’s been practicing a lot, he’d love if you’d watch-”

“Katie, don’t make me want to, because I can’t,” Ryan cuts in, because he hates when it feels like this, when he can imagine things that wouldn’t happen, imagine going and seeing his parents and talking to them. He’s imagining going into that rink and his mom smiling at him, and _oh God,_ it hurts.

“I’m sorry,” Kate says softly, and there’s the sound of a door banging open in the background; in the next second, Ryan hears Madison start to wail. “Oh, Jesus, what now?” Kate sighs.

“She was touching my helmet!” Bentley cries, “Mom, don’t let her!”  

 _“Mum-mum!”_ Madison screams.

“See you,” Ryan says. There’s some noise, the phone drops once. Madison cries some more.

“Love you, Ry,” Kate says, as Ryan hears Bentley say _Ryan’s on the phone? Let me talk, let me!_ He hangs up before she can cave, because he doesn’t want to tell Bentley he can’t come to the game.

“Dude!” Ryan hears Brett’s voice from the hallway outside his room, “I’m driving to Cyclone’s to see their lacrosse stuff. Wanna come?”

“No thanks,” Ryan calls back, because he doesn’t want to be alone, but he doesn’t want to be around people either. Besides, no one he sees today will be who he wants to see.

 _Tell me if you finish early?_ He texts to Aaron, and Aaron writes back _will do,_ but Ryan doesn’t hear from him once for the rest of the weekend.

The worst part is having to show up in sociology Monday morning and act like everything is normal, but Ryan is disgustingly good at lying. Aaron comes in late and slides into his seat next to Ryan, and Ryan smiles and says hi. Aaron doesn’t suspect a thing, because he couldn’t tell when Ryan came into their eleventh-grade trig class shaken to his core after overhearing his parents’ repulsed discussion the night before of the gay couple that moved in down the street,  he couldn’t tell when Ryan showed up to move into their dorm room knowing that he was never moving back home, he couldn’t tell last year or the year before that when Ryan said he was going home for Christmas he never meant exactly that, and Aaron can’t tell now. Aaron may have been there for all the important things that happened in Ryan’s life, but Aaron missed all the ones that changed him.

Ryan sits beside Aaron in silence, keeps glancing over at him through the lecture, just to check that Aaron’s still there, that he hasn’t gone anywhere, he’s here, right here. When class ends and Aaron stands to leave, Ryan hears himself ask “free tonight?” even though he _told_ himself he wouldn’t.

“Tonight?” Aaron says, and Ryan nods. The rest of their classmates are collecting their things and leaving around them, all this noise that Ryan can’t even register. “I promised Tim I’d help him with some stuff,” Aaron says, “maybe tomorrow?”

“We have a game tomorrow,” Ryan reminds him, and Aaron looks down to zip up his backpack.

“Oh, right, yeah. I’ll see you for that, then.”

“Just that?” Ryan asks too quickly, because they always go to Forestry together on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and he can’t be losing that, he _can’t._

Aaron nods, and when he leaves, Ryan has to remind himself that Aaron’s going to come back, tells himself that over and over until he can at least pretend like he fully believes it.  

0o0o0o0o

Ryan _was_ looking forward to the hockey game. It’s been a week of Aaron saying he’s too busy to spend any time together, and at least Ryan’s promised an hour for the game. They’re on the ice for the first shift, just like always, and for two minutes, everything is _normal._ Ryan passes to Aaron from behind the net and even though it gets intercepted and then put in the net by Jeff, Ryan still gets to hug Aaron.

“It’s the law team,” Aaron says as they’re skating back to the bench, “hate these guys.”

“But we’re winning.” Ryan climbs over the boards after him, sits on the bench. It doesn’t matter that the law graduate team plays dirty and gets in too many fights; a goal in the first shift is a great start, better because Ryan can finally breathe again.

But Aaron doesn’t sit next to him, Aaron’s -  Ryan looks down, tugs at his skate laces, because he can’t watch Aaron trade places with one of the centres.

“Hey,” he hears, as Ken sits beside him. Ryan doesn’t look up. He doesn’t like Ken or the captain, because their nickname for him and Aaron is Seabs and Keith, after those two Chicago defensemen, and Ryan just _knows_ it’s not because they’re great on the ice. It’s because everyone jokes about Seabrook and Keith being married, and Ryan’s fucking sick of everyone thinking he has what he wants the most; the fact that it looks like it only makes everything hurt worse. _Really?_ He wants to snarl every time he overhears Ken or the captain, _does it fucking look like I have him,_ because Aaron’s on the ice with two people on his wings, and Ryan’s not _there,_ it’s not the two of them anymore.

The rest of the game does not go well. Aaron’s at the other end of the bench fucking micromanaging who gets sent out when, and Ryan’s only on at the same time as him for a couple shifts, never playing as D-partners. Watching Aaron react to someone else’s play from this close fills Ryan with the kind of upset frustration he can’t handle, and thanks to two merciless trippings, an overly aggressive shove and the slash he gives when he sees Aaron signal to Dan to make some play, Ryan spends a few minutes of each of those shifts in the penalty box. It’s better than their last game, at least, because that game, Aaron scored from left wing, and Ryan nearly got in a fight, and crosschecked someone when he heard Aaron yell _time_ at him from the bench, like Aaron had any fucking right to correct Ryan’s play when he was the one ruining it by being absent.

            Ryan’s so relieved when the game is finally over, even though he doesn’t know where Aaron _is_ as the buzzer sounds, because Aaron’s not right next to him, and _fuck,_ but Ryan hates this feeling. He refuses to let himself look around, but when Aaron skates up next to him, still feels a flood of relief. Aaron’s got that frown on his face, the one he has whenever they lose like this - three to four - close but not enough.   
            The loss makes the locker room quiet afterwards. Ryan is thankful, just doesn’t want to hear Aaron talking normally to everyone else, when all he has for his _best friend_ is silence. He’s actually normal with everyone else, Ryan realises too late, watching Aaron take off his gear and say something to Justin about skate sharpeners. Aaron really _is_ acting normally with everyone else, it’s – it’s just him, Aaron really is only silent for him. The realisation makes something in Ryan’s chest twist painfully, and he ducks his head, repeats _he’s not he’s not it’s fine everything’s fine,_ even as Aaron sits right next to him and nothing feels the way it should.   
            At least Aaron doesn’t linger afterwards to talk to any of their teammates and no one asks for a ride home with them; Ryan doesn’t know how he could watch Aaron talk to everyone else, when he’s aware that it’s _just him_ that Aaron isn’t acting normal with. They head outside into the cold, and out here in the dark, just him and Aaron, it almost feels like maybe all it takes for things to be normal is for it to be just the two of them for a minute.   
            “Shitty game,” Ryan comments, as Aaron follows him up the short staircase to the parking lot. He looks up, frowns at the visible stars. A few summers ago, they borrowed Aaron’s brother’s truck and drove out to a lake by Squamish; they’d forgotten the tent so they slept in the bed of the truck, spent the first night worrying about bears and lying just a shade too close together. They’d distracted themselves by making up constellations, and Ryan only fell asleep as dawn was breaking, when Aaron whispered _dude, go to sleep, I’ll watch for bears._  
            Ryan looks down, pulls his hood up so Aaron can’t tell that he’s biting his lip to keep any tears away, because he’d just felt so safe, knowing Aaron was staying awake so he could sleep.   
            “Yeah,” Aaron says, not nearly enough.   
            “Might win in the playoffs anyways, though,” Ryan offers up, desperate for Aaron to give him _anything_ in return. “I mean, we did win two games.” Aaron doesn’t say anything, and Ryan sighs out a breath, follows him the rest of the way across the parking lot in silence.   
            “So,” Ryan tries again after he’s put his bag into the trunk of the car, pauses a moment and just thinks _please please please, Aaron, please,_ “busy tomorrow night?”  
            “Yeah. Sorry,” Aaron says, like he isn’t taking _everything._ Ryan shoves his hands in his pockets, tries not to remember the way it felt when he realised Aaron was just pretending to be that afraid of bears, because he didn’t want Ryan to feel bad. It doesn’t matter if he tries to push the memory away now; it’s not like he can remember the way it felt to be taken care of and watched out for, not when he feels the way he does now.   
            He spends the car ride in near silence, just stares out the window and wishes he remembered every single constellation they drew in the sky.   
0o0o0o0o0o   
            Nothing changes for the next week, and Ryan never thought he’d count this as a _good_ thing, that Aaron’s odd quietness and distance could ever be good. At least Aaron’s still speaking to him, though, and Ryan never even thought he’d have to be thankful for that like _this._  
            He’s grateful, though, for the little he gets, until he gets to the forestry building late, and Aaron isn’t there. Ryan slides out his chair, tries to start working on his paper. He keeps getting distracted, though, keeps looking up at Aaron’s empty chair, train of thought scattering. Ryan gives up after another twenty minutes. He pulls out his phone, texts _u comin to frstry??_ to Aaron. He gets a reply almost immediately, but it’s not what he wants to see.   
            _No sorry had to work on test corrections w ppl,_ it says, and Ryan sighs out a long breath, puts his head down on his outstretched arm.   
            _Sucks. Free tonight?_ he types with one hand, watches his screen as it sends. The reply comes right away.   
            _Can’t sorry,_ and there’s nothing Ryan can reply that isn’t _please I miss you,_ because there are no other words left in his mind. He hasn’t seen Aaron outside of class and hockey in such a long time, and even then, Aaron plays offense so often, comes into class barely a minute before it begins, and he’s right there beside Ryan sometimes but it still feels like he’s _gone._ Ryan pushes his phone away from him and just stares out the window. He wants to wonder if he did something wrong, but it’s obvious that he must have done _something_ to deserve this.  
            It doesn’t _stop._ It goes on for the next week, and by the time he sees Aaron at their game, Ryan can barely manage a smile when he says hi. He follows Aaron out to the ice, glad they’re late enough to have missed warm-ups because he just wants to go _home._ Ryan skates out to his position, looks over to see who’s going to be playing D at the same time as him – he can’t call someone else his partner, just _can’t –_ and _oh,_ it’s _Aaron._ Ryan leans on his stick across his knees and draws in a shaky breath; this finally feels like _home._  
            With only a few minutes left in the third, Ryan passes to Aaron, and Aaron sends it into the net with that wristshot that Ryan’s watched him turn into something amazing over the years. And then, even better, he skates right over to Ryan as their teammates cheer from the bench. Ryan throws his arms around Aaron, bumps their gloves together.   
            “Four more just like that, okay?” he says, grins in relief because this, this feels _normal,_ this is his, is _theirs._ He doesn’t care that they end up losing the game, because when the game ends, Ryan knows exactly where Aaron is, Aaron’s right beside him on the bench.   
            Maybe it’s okay. Maybe whatever he did, Aaron’s forgiven him for it, maybe it’s _okay_ now. Ryan looks up at the scoreboard that reads 1-5 and smiles.   
0o0o0o0o0o  
            Three days later, Ryan’s Shakespeare class is cancelled, so he doesn’t have to rush off after sociology. He lingers, follows Aaron into the hallway.   
            “Haven’t you got English?” Aaron asks, and Ryan shakes his head no.   
            “Cancelled today.” He finishes buttoning up his jacket, and looks at Aaron; sure, he hasn’t seen Aaron outside of class since the game, but that game felt the way it was supposed to, so he goes on, “plans tonight?”  
            “Not sure yet,” Aaron says, and _oh,_ that’s not a no. Ryan barely holds back a smile. “you?”  
            “Bunch of people are going to Venue or something,” Ryan says. Brett mentioned it this morning, and Ryan initially said no, but maybe Aaron will come. “You in?” he asks, and suddenly, Aaron’s frowning.  
            “No,” he snaps, and Ryan all-but flinches. Aaron stalks off, slams through the doors out of the building.   
            “Aaron-” Ryan calls after him, as the door swings shut. Fuck fuck _fuck,_ he thought things were better, thought Aaron had gotten over it or forgiven him, and _oh,_ what did he even _do?_ Ryan fumbles for his phone, calls Aaron. The phone just rings and rings, and, as Ryan stands there in the middle of the hallway trying for the eighth time, finally it just goes straight to message.    
            He tries not to think about it. He’s going to Kate’s for the weekend, thankfully, but as he’s taking the ferry up to North Van, all he has is time to think. He stares out the window at the unnaturally blue sky, frantically going through every memory of the past few weeks that could explain this. He must have done _something,_ Aaron wouldn’t do this for no reason, and he’s never _done_ anything like this, never gotten distant and never, never gotten mad at him. They don’t _fight._ They disagree and they argue, but they don’t do _this,_ because this hurts, and Aaron would never hurt him.   
            What he’s doing right now – it doesn’t count, it hurts but it doesn’t _count,_ Ryan must have done something to deserve this and he doesn’t _understand,_ but it can’t be, none of this can be happening, because this isn’t something Aaron _does._  
            By the time he finally gets to Kate’s house, Ryan is overwhelmingly happy to be sent outside with Madison to keep her busy while Kate helps Bentley with some school project. Madison needs constant attention, and when Ryan’s busy crawling after her on the grass, he can’t think about anything.   
            “Doggie!” Madison waves the toy at him, “woof woof!”   
            “Look, a kitty,” Ryan picks up the plastic cat, and Madison giggles and meows. “And here’s the _lion!”_ Ryan waggles the little lion at Madison and she shrieks with laughter. Kate had apologised for making him watch Madison, but Ryan’s so, so happy for the distraction. He doesn’t want to think about the game on Tuesday, about Aaron having excuses for ditching Forestry studying this week, about the way Aaron suddenly got so _mad_ at him. Ryan just wants to focus on something painless, and this is perfect, gives him a little time to just breathe again. “What’s the lion say?”  
            “Raaaaaar!” Madison screeches, throwing her hands up, “Raaaaaar!”  
            Inside the house, Ryan hears the doorbell ring, and Bentley’s yell of “Phone, Mom!” and wild laughter at his own joke.   
            “Here comes the lion agaiiinnn!”   
            “Raaaaaar!” Madison grabs for it, giggling hysterically when Ryan pulls it away and sneaks it around her other side. “Lion!”

The screen door opens, and Ryan expects to hear Kate telling him that it’s a bad idea to teach Madison that there are lions in the backyard that like to stalk her, but it’s not Kate’s voice he hears.

            “Come here, sweetheart!” he hears, and he’s set Madison’s toy down and is about to get up when he realises, freezes. Madison runs across the backyard to where Ryan’s mother is standing in the doorway. He thought – he forgot, for a second, he thought she was talking to _him –_ his mother scoops Madison up and hugs her, and he can just hear the sound of her voice as she coos at Madison, and she doesn’t even _look_ at him. She didn’t come here for him, he’s not even _here,_ and he thought he was over this, but even if he beats it into submission, it still catches him when he’s not expecting it, when he hears his mother’s voice and forgets that she’s never going to call him like that, to bring him to her. He suddenly feels so fucking _vulnerable,_ sitting here in the middle of the backyard, sniffling and trying so, so hard not to cry, looking at his mother and remembering a thousand lost things at once. His mother goes inside with Madison, closes the door behind them.   
            He can hear her voice from inside the house, and he’s never going to be able to mistake this for a day years ago, no matter how much it feels like it on the surface. He’s outside in the grass, his mother’s voice floating out from inside the house, but it _hurts,_ and that’s not his mom, it’s _not,_ because she doesn’t love him and his mom said she did so many times, and he just – just – he wants her back, wants everything _back,_ wishes he could undo everything but he _can’t,_ can’t _change_ this _._ Tears well in his eyes before he can stop it, and he buries his face in his hands, tries so hard to fight it.   
            A few minutes later, the screen door bangs open again, and he turns away, draws his knees up to his chest like he could ever hide, in the middle of the yard. The fast footsteps come towards him, though, and he hears “C’mere, Ry,” words actually for him. He lets Kate pull him close against her, kiss the top of his head and hold him tight.   
            “I’m so sorry,” she says, sounds like she’s near tears herself, “I had no idea she was coming, she dropped by without telling me, I’m _sorry,_ Ry.”   
            “She didn’t even,” he whispers, can’t make himself finish that because there are so, so many things his mother doesn’t do, and the most important, he just can’t say.   
            “Ryan,” Kate murmurs, “I know, I know.”   
            “I wanna go home,” he whimpers, sobbing into her shoulder, “make them take me back, Katie.”   
            “Ryan,” Katie sounds tearful now, and he hates that, hates when he makes her cry. He wants to stop, comfort her, but all he can do is sob harder because their mom still talks to her, still wants _her,_ because she hasn’t changed, but neither has _he._  
            “Make me not be,” he begs senselessly, “please, please, I don’t wanna be.”   
            “Oh, sweetie,” Katie whispers, and he can’t manage words anymore.   
            He wanted to forget about what happened today, and this, this makes him forget, makes him remember, makes all the hurt he was feeling just so much worse. 


	4. Chapter 4

            Today has to be better. Ryan refuses to believe differently, has been telling himself this all morning. Today has to be better, because the last time he saw Aaron, it _hurt,_ ended with Aaron walking away from him and it didn’t feel like _them._ Ryan needs it to feel like them, needs just one single thing that’s his to _stay_ that way, one thing to depend on that won’t end up hurting him more because it means so much to him.   
            He gets to Sociology early, goes to sit on the left of the room, just like always, to wait for Aaron. Ryan watches the door nervously, tries to fight so many things out of his mind, keep away the sound of Aaron’s phone ringing and ringing without being answered, the sound of his mother’s voice, Kate making promises he knows are lies as she said _it’ll be okay._ Half a minute before class starts, Aaron finally comes in – but he doesn’t even look towards their usual table. He walks over to one of the tables near the front, and where is he _going?_ Ryan looks down, just stares at his notebook so he doesn’t have to see. He just – he _needed_ this, today, needed Aaron to be here and be normal and just – just – he needed _Aaron,_ today, needed someone who wouldn’t leave him and suddenly Aaron, who’s been here since they were so little, suddenly, all he’s doing is leaving.   
            Ryan tries to pay attention to the lecture, tries, but the only thing he’s aware of is Aaron’s empty chair beside him, wondering if the fact that Aaron isn’t here means that it isn’t his chair anymore. When class ends, he looks down the put his stuff away, and then when he looks up, Aaron’s already gone. Possible explanations run through his mind, but they’re so _ridiculous,_ but one of them has to be true, _any_ of them, Ryan doesn’t care which, he just wants there to be something that makes this just a little better.  
            “Hey,” Elise says, when Ryan sits beside her in Shakespeare. “What’s up?”  
            “Nothing,” he says, but she keeps looking at him, and he _knows_ it’s because he’s barely talking, but still can’t bring himself to say anything more.

Aaron doesn’t show up in Forestry. Ryan checks his phone a hundred times, but there’s nothing, nothing that tells him where Aaron is or why he stopped coming or what’s going on, and Ryan waits there the entire time, but Aaron never comes.

When Ryan gets home, he snaps at Evan in response to an innocent question about bus schedules, and when easily-injured Evan isn’t even fazed, Ryan knows he should be worried about himself. Then again, that’s always been true, and no good’s ever come of it.

0o0o0oo

Ryan hates finals. He just doesn’t deal well with stress, and this year it’s just so bad. He has two one day, followed by one the next morning, and then only a week before two more. He likes studying at home best, but just doesn’t want to have to talk to his roommates, because all he can do is get irritated with them and there’s no _reason_ for it, he just _does._ Studying in the library is always frustrating, though, and after finding the tolerable section closed for the evening and no available tables on the first or second floor, he finally finds a spot on the third floor, at a table by the window, too close to all the others to let him really focus.

He isn’t there for an hour before someone walks up to his table, and oh, God, it’s Vanessa, he doesn’t _like_ Vanessa.

“Hey, Ryan!” She says cheerfully, and he just wishes he wasn’t here.

“Hi...”

“So,” she leans on the table, smiles, “how’ve you been?”

“Good.” He adds, only reluctantly, “you?”

“Oh, awesome. Hey, so,” she’s talking faster, like this was the reason she came over here. He really, really shouldn’t have come here. “We should go out again sometime!”

“Um.” His date with her was like every other date he’s had - only meant to make it appear like he was into girls, one of the many reasons that he just couldn’t _take_ it anymore, why he now hasn’t seen his own house in nearly three years. “I’m not really seeing anyone,” he says. She smiles, misunderstanding. “I mean - anyone. Like, I’m not doing the seeing-people thing.”

“Oh.” She looks crestfallen, and he wants to apologise but it’s not like anyone’s ever apologised to him, and he’s fine. “Well, um. See you around, then!” She leaves, and he goes back to his reading, even though he can barely register a single word on the page. His pen just hovers over the notebook, like he can’t bring himself to just take fucking notes already. He props his chin in his hand, writes slowly. _You don’t understand how many people I’ve lied to,_ he writes, bites down on his lip, _I thought telling you might go okay, because but if it ruins everything with you, why would I tell anyone else? If you, of all people, could hate me, does that mean everyone else will be worse?_ He closes his notebook on this letter his parents will never see and packs up his stuff, won’t be able to think coherently for the rest of the night.  

Both his roommates are gone when he gets home, although when he checks his phone, he sees a message from Brett telling him they were both out with a bunch of people, and inviting him to join them. Ryan sends back a _sorry, studying, but thanks._ He just doesn’t want to think about going out with people, because last time he suggested it to Aaron – fuck, it _hurt,_ hearing Aaron snarl at him like that. Ryan leaves his backpack on the floor and drops down on the couch, flips through TV channels to distract himself. When his phone rings, he only doesn’t turn it off because it’s Kate, and maybe he’ll be able to go see them soon, get away from here for a little while. God, he just wants finals to be over so he can – fuck, _go home_ still comes to mind even though – he _can’t –_ he shoves the thoughts away and answers the phone.  

“Hey, Ryan,” she says when he picks up.

“What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing much,” she says, and she’s a great liar, but Ryan’s been lied to so many times, he can see through anything. He knows every time she says _it’s okay,_ says _they’ll come around,_ it’s never going to be true, and when she says _nothing much,_ she doesn’t mean that.

“Kate…” he sighs out. He really doesn’t know why she bothers to try to sugar-coat things for him. Maybe everyone thinks he can’t handle things, that he’d break down at the first sign of things going wrong, but he’s still here. He’s lost so many things, and it hasn’t ruined him, not as far as he knows.

“Well, Gryf and I were looking over our finances and things…” she says reluctantly, “and now that Madison’s two, I’m going to go back to work.”

“Oh, cool.” So she needs him to babysit or something? Ryan could use a piece of good news in the place of expected bad news. Somehow, though, he doesn’t think that’s it.

“Well, that would mean we’d need to put Madison in daycare. And Bentley, too, after school.” She pauses, hesitating. “Except, it’s much more expensive than we can afford. I mean, it’s a thousand a month just for Madison, and that’s _if_ they have space-” she cuts off and draws in a slow breath. “So Mom and Dad offered to help with daycare.”

“Okay.” This can’t be it, though, they’ve been over this. Bentley and Madison have a relationship with his parents, separate from him, he doesn’t resent anyone for that – he does, though, he hates that his parents would dare to love these two little kids when he _knows_ it’s not what it appears, knows that if either Bentley or Madison tests their grandparents’ love in the blameless way he did, it’ll _disappear –_ but this can’t be about that.

“So… to deal with the financial situation, and to make daycare convenient for everyone, we’re – we’re going to rent the basement suite at their house. We just – it’s the only thing we can do.”

 _Oh._ Ryan draws in a slow breath, doesn’t let himself respond with the words that crush against his chest, trying to get out. He just – God, it feels like some kind of betrayal, but one he has no right to get upset over – how is he supposed to see them, if they’re living at his parents’ house? They don’t _want_ him there. He’s not ever allowed back. He’s – he’s not walking back into the house where they told him _you’re not welcome here anymore,_ and when he started to cry, they just looked at him like he had ceased to be their son the moment he said _I’m gay._ He just – can’t go back there.

“Ryan,” Kate says softly. “I’m so sorry, we looked at every other way – everything’s just so expensive –”

“I know,” Ryan mumbles. “It’s okay.” He wraps his arm around the pillow beside him, closes his eyes. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay,” Kate says, still so gentle and apologetic.

“When’re you moving?”

“We’re working on putting our house on the market now.” The summer Ryan was imagining is gone already, and he doesn’t want to think about the months beyond it, won’t even acknowledge the existence of time after that. After they’ve said goodbye, he looks at his phone for a long moment before shoving it back in his pocket and burying his face in the pillow. He wants to tell Aaron, because Aaron would say _it’s okay, dude, you’ll live_ in this impossibly gentle voice, would tell him _you can just spend the whole summer with me –_ except he _doesn’t_ know Aaron would say that. He doesn’t know anything. He thought his parents would say _we love you, remember? Why were you even worried about this,_ and – they didn’t. Besides, Aaron doesn’t even talk to him anymore. Ryan can hardly expect something so unlikely as comfort in this situation from Aaron now of all times; he couldn’t even tell Aaron any of this back before things inexplicably fell apart. Ryan curls up around the pillow, squeezes his eyes shut, just tries to fall asleep.

0o0o0o0o0o  
            A week and a half later, Ryan’s sitting at the kitchen counter, head on his outstretched arm. He still has two more finals left, and the one last night was just so _hard._ The sociology exam was held in the gym, and he got there only five minutes before it started and took a seat in the back, couldn’t spot Aaron anywhere when he glanced around. It offset all his focus, though, and he knows he missed questions he should have aced.   
            “Hey, dude,” Brett says, coming into the kitchen. He pokes through the refrigerator, grabs out something wrapped in foil and comes to stand on the other side of the counter from Ryan. “What’s up?”  
            “Nothing.” Ryan lifts his head a little, arches an eyebrow when he sees Brett’s unwrapping a burrito. “It’s like, ten in the morning.”   
            “You’re the one with the breakfast burrito obsession.”  
            “That’s different.” Ryan drops his head back to his arm, doesn’t let himself think about all the places he went with Aaron, the time Aaron called him at three AM to say he’d found a place online he wanted to try in the morning, all the way in Surrey. Ryan had fallen asleep in the car on the way there, woken up to find Aaron’s jacket pillowed under his head against the door.   
            “When’s your last final?”  
            “In a week. Victorian Lit. Yours?”  
            “Today,” Brett grins, “so you going home for the summer or anything?” Ryan shakes his head no.   
            “What’re your plans?” he asks, and thankfully, Brett starts talking about job searching and his camping trip, and it’s so much easier to talk about that.   
            “So, comin’ out tonight?” Brett asks afterwards, as he balls up the tin foil, then tries to shape it into a cube. “Hittin’ up Caprice, man, it should be cool.”  
            “I think I’m going to drop-in hockey,” Ryan says. He’s gone a couple times in the past two weeks, and left a period early every time because he didn’t want to inflict his horrible play on his makeshift team for any longer.  
            “Yes? No?” Brett’s saying.  
            “Huh?”  
            “Just wondering if you have any highlighters I could borrow?” Brett asks.  
            “Oh. Uh, no. Don’t own any,” he says, but Brett’s still looking at him.   
            “You okay?” he asks, and Ryan nods, slides off the stool he’s sitting on.   
            “Yeah, totally. I’m gonna go study. Maybe Evan has highlighters?”  
            “Uh, yeah, I’ll ask,” Brett sounds distracted, and Ryan knows he’s still concerned, but leaves the kitchen before Brett can ask anything else.   
            He spends the day trying to study, and in the evening, actually leaves for drop-in hockey because Brett’s still at the apartment, and Ryan doesn’t want to end up going out if he stays here. Once at the rink, he signs in and goes into one of the locker rooms to put his gear on, only vaguely recognizes a few players by sight. He heads out of the locker room and freezes, pulse suddenly racing.   
            Aaron’s sitting on the bench. He’s _right there,_ wearing the same colour pinnie as Ryan, and oh, God, Ryan hasn’t seen him in _so long,_ and now he’s back, this place that belongs to both of them together, feels incomplete and foreign without him. Ryan suddenly doesn’t know how to speak to him anymore, incapable of something as easy as going over to his best friend and saying hi. And he’s never – never felt like that, this is different from being afraid of possible things, this is being scared of something imminent, unavoidable.   
            He doesn’t say anything, just skates out for the first shift and hopes Aaron will end up as his D-partner again, hates this place where it’s not a given. Aaron skates over but doesn’t look his way, already focused on the puck. Within a few seconds of the puck being dropped, Ryan gets it and suddenly he’s playing beside Aaron again, falling back into the place he never thought he’d find again. Aaron still knows exactly what to do, they still respond to each other like they’ve never been apart. And Ryan – he _misses_ this. He misses being good at hockey. He misses having a place where he feels like he belongs.

He gets the puck to Aaron, and when Aaron scores, Ryan expects it to hit him like cold water, a painfully jarring reminder that nothing’s fixed, nothing’s okay, but then Aaron comes _right to him,_ throws his arms around him. Ryan nearly sobs in relief, can’t help but cling to Aaron so tight.

“Aaron,” he says quietly, wants to beg to know what he did wrong, or at least to make Aaron promise to still give him this, enough to live on. Aaron lets him go, though, skates away, and Ryan stares after him, bites down hard on his mouthguard as he forces away tears.

He doesn’t know how he makes it through the game, through too-brief hugs after Aaron’s two goals, how he’s able to sit next to Aaron without hanging onto his jersey sleeve and pleading _don’t leave without me, don’t forget me here_ before every shift, so afraid Aaron’s going to go up to offense again. Aaron stays on defense for the whole game, and it almost feels like he never left Ryan’s side, like nothing ever went wrong. Ryan still doesn’t know what happened, but he’ll be okay so long as it stays like this, the way everything’s supposed to be.

He feels it as soon as they step off the ice – there’s still something. Aaron’s quiet as they get dressed, and the locker room empties out around them until there’s no one else here. Ryan doesn’t know how to ask without falling apart, how to plead _please tell me what I did_ and not just break. He doesn’t _want_ to, not in front of Aaron, and he’s never been afraid to cry in front of Aaron before, but Aaron’s never been the one to cause it, either.

Aaron leaves the locker room before Ryan can say anything, though. Ryan grabs his gear bag and runs to follow, because he just – he _has_ to know, he’ll take whatever it causes, he just _needs to fix this._ Because – Aaron just left without him. It hurts more every time Aaron does that.

“Aaron,” he says when he catches up, his voice the only sound in the dark, empty rink. “What’d I do?” he asks. Aaron looks at him, indecipherable.

“You didn’t-” he starts, but Ryan doesn’t want to _hear_ that. He doesn’t want Aaron to lie to him, because _he did something._ He has to have done something, because he’s losing the most important person in his life, and that can’t be for no reason, he needs a reason so he can _fix it._

 _“Fuck,_ Aaron!” he nearly yells, can’t _take_ this, “I know I must have done something, because you won’t even talk to me anymore!”

“You didn’t-”

“Just tell me,” Ryan pleads weakly. He really can’t take this, wants to be put out of his misery. Aaron’s pausing, hesitating, won’t look at him, and oh, God, Ryan needs an answer before he falls apart.

“You kissed me,” Aaron says, and the words don’t make sense. “When – you were drunk, that one night we all went out, during reading break. You – that’s what you did.”

_No._

Aaron has to be wrong, he _has to be wrong –_ but oh, _please no –_ Ryan _remembers._ Staring at Aaron, Ryan suddenly remembers _kissing him,_ pressing their lips together and clinging to Aaron and _no please no no-_

“ _Fuck,”_ Ryan hisses, slams his fist against the plexiglass beside him. He wants to collapse, fall apart from how _fucking terrible_ everything is. He – he _ruined everything._ He’s kept it a secret for _so long,_ and now Aaron knows, he _knows,_ and that’s why everything’s fallen apart. And _oh,_ Aaron’s doing exactly what Ryan has always been so terrified he would do – he’s leaving. He’s leaving Ryan for this, just like Ryan’s parents did, Aaron’s leaving and Ryan _loves him,_ and that’s why Aaron doesn’t want him anymore.

He hears Aaron walk away, and that’s it, all he can handle. Aaron’s really leaving, he’s walking away, _he’s leaving,_ he doesn’t want Ryan anymore. Ryan starts to cry, buries his face in his arms against the plexiglass, sobs tearing through his chest until he can’t breathe. Aaron left, he left, _he left,_ because Ryan loves him and it’s _all his fault,_ he made Aaron leave, made Aaron hate him. He kept it secret for _so long,_ why did he have to ruin it? He needs this, _needs Aaron,_ loves him so much it hurts, but he never thought it would get this bad. He never thought he’d get to kiss Aaron, forget it, that he’d unknowingly trade one forgotten experience for the most important person in his life.

It’s a long time before he can hold off tears long enough to walk away, and when he leaves the rink, it feels the same as when he left home for the last time – painful, irreversible, all his fault. 


	5. Chapter 5

His last two finals are mercifully easy, and Ryan probably would have failed if they weren’t about books he’d read earlier in the semester. He’s been trying to review the last few books this week, but he just can’t _think._ It’s just too hard to focus on anything, and more than once as he tried to study in his room, he ended up with his head down on the desk, crying.

After his last final, he comes back to his apartment to find Evan still packing for his hiking trip. “Still packing?” he asks as he passes Evan’s room. Evan grumbles something, his voice coming from the direction of the closet.

“Just can’t find _anything,_ and if I forget stuff I’m doomed _.”_

“I wouldn’t say _doomed…”_

“We’ll be in the middle of the wilderness!” Evan tosses something across the room, misses his bag, “dude, we have to _carry_ our kayaks.”

“How long is it for?”

“A month. You’ll totally miss me,” Evan leans around the closet door to grin at him.

“Yeah, okay,” Ryan rolls his eyes. The whole exchange feels – familiar? Maybe? It’s not until he gets to his bedroom that he remember something else – saying _I don’t think you like me,_ but who was he talking to – _Aaron._ Ryan sinks down on his bed, drops his head into his hands, forcing away tears. He’s not going to cry about this, he’s not.

But – he remembers kissing Aaron. He remembers leaning in to crush their lips together, kissing Aaron hard and needy and holding onto him so tight – and then he remembers the way Aaron looked at him, like he didn’t even know Ryan anymore.

Ryan doesn’t want to remember, but he doesn’t want to forget, either, because it’s what ruined everything but it’s also what he always wanted. It’s just another instance of what he wants making him lose everything, that just _keeps happening,_ but if only he’d known – he never would have risked Aaron.

He’s not going to fucking cry over this, because that does _nothing,_ goes to distract himself with finding all the books he needs to sell back to the bookstore. Fifteen minutes later, though, he’s still having to pause every couple minutes to wipe away tears, breathing still jagged. He wants to just _get over_ this, but he just _needs_ Aaron, and this is worse than being thrown out of his home, this is being unwanted in everything he does, because Aaron was everything to him, and he’s always, always been here.

When Ryan’s phone buzzes with a text, he thinks for an insane second that it’ll be Aaron, even though it hasn’t been for so long now. It’s not him, it’s just Pete, a friend of theirs from high school who’s at a university on the east coast. _Wanna chill w me this summer??_ it reads.  

 _Sure,_ Ryan writes back before he can think better of it. He loves summers in BC, looks forward to it all year, but he just – he can’t. Everything he likes to do, it’s with Aaron, and it’s not like he’ll be able to go home, either.

_K awesome. When can u guys get here?_

_What do u mean, u guys??_

_LMAO dude,_ Pete writes back, and the realization hurts, hits Ryan too hard and too suddenly, that Pete just assumes Ryan would come with Aaron.

 _Hes not friends w me anymore,_ Ryan texts, and it hurts _so much,_ to see it written out like that, no room for interpretation in the words. He rubs his hand over his eyes as he waits for Pete’s reply, tries so hard not to think about it.

 _Fuck, Im sorry,_ Pete says, _well u shud come out here then. TO’s cool, u’ll like it._

Ryan doesn’t think he could like any city more than Vancouver, but that’s not entirely accurate. He loves the city he’s gone all over with Aaron, the same way he loves a North Van that doesn’t exist anymore.

 _I’ll send u when I get there as soon as I get a ticket,_ he texts, gets a _awesome!!_ in return. Ryan can’t stop himself from clicking back through his text inbox until he gets to the last one Aaron sent him.

 _Can’t, sorry,_ it reads, like Aaron’s always going to be telling him _I can’t,_ over and over, for all the things he can’t do, can’t be, will never be able to accept.

Three days later, Ryan leaves for Toronto, already feels homesick. He knows, though. He’ll come back in four months, but this feeling, it’s never going to go away.  

0o0o0o

Toronto is different. Summer like this is so unfamiliar to Ryan, and it’s – it’s fine. He’s not entirely sure he likes it – but it’s fine. It’s easy to find a job, at least; he’s been working part-time in restaurants since high school, and a lot during the summers, so when Pete says the pub he bartends at is looking for servers, Ryan gets hired easily. During high school, he’d been saving for a car, but when he told his parents before university, it turned from a car fund into a tuition-and-rent fund, and without that and the money his grandparents left him, he just – doesn’t like to think about what he’d be doing. His parents seemed prepared to continue to fund his education, because they’d promised, like keeping that promise would show him how he’d failed to keep his as a son, but Ryan just _doesn’t want_ their help. Last summer, he worked some mornings and more nights, could spend the afternoons with Aaron or stop by the Starbucks Aaron worked at when it was slow, and he really loved seeing Aaron there, in his polo shirt and apron, the way he smiled when Ryan came in like he’d been looking forward to it all day.

This job’s different, and Ryan doesn’t really _like_ it, because of that. He doesn’t like all the things that frame it – a summer without seeing Aaron, without watching movies with Kate and playing with her kids in the backyard. Ryan never would have chosen to give it up.

His shifts usually line up with Pete’s, although tonight it was incredibly slow, so Pete got let off early and only David’s bartending.

“Hey,” David says, when Ryan comes over to loiter by the bar, his tables taken care of for now, most empty. “Any plans for the weekend?”

“Not really,” Ryan shrugs a shoulder. David’s really friendly, talks all the time, and Ryan normally wouldn’t mind, but he just never really feels like talking much. “Going biking with some people, probably.”

“Oh, that sounds cool,” David says brightly.

“Yeah – I’m gonna go check on my tables,” Ryan says, wanders back over to his section. He finishes up with his tables as his shift ends, and it’s going okay until he overhears people talking at one of the tables as he finishes with billing. They’re talking about some fair going on, and fuck, now he’s remembering going to FrightNight last Halloween. They went with a bunch of people and had gone through all the haunted houses, Aaron continually checking to make sure Ryan was still right behind him, didn’t mind that one time when Ryan got terrified by someone jumping out and grabbed onto Aaron’s arm, hid his face against the back of Aaron’s shoulder. Fuck, now Ryan can’t stop thinking about that, about how Aaron had decided to spend the night at Ryan’s apartment after the fair, because they both felt comforted by being in the same room together.

Ryan’s just relieved that his shift is over, and he can just leave, hopefully stop thinking about all of this. Pete’s probably back at the apartment by now, his date with his girlfriend done, and he’ll probably play video games until 2AM, which Ryan will never get tired of. He finishes up everything, just has to wait for the food runner to finish what she’s doing so he can tip her out.

“Going home?” David comes over to the end of the bar, next to where Ryan’s waiting.

“Yeah, I just finished.”

“Oh, cool.” David pauses, waits as the runner comes over to get tipped. After she walks away, he goes on before Ryan can leave. “I’m getting switched to morning shift,” David says.

“That’s great.”

“Yeah, so, guess I won’t be seeing you much,” David says, and Ryan doesn’t really know where he’s going with that. “So, listen, I wanted to ask you something.”

“What?” Ryan asks uneasily. David fiddles with the twist-on plastic cap in his hands, and Ryan’s already worried about what he’s going to say.

“Well, maybe you’d want to – I dunno, hang out sometime?” It’s too hopeful, though, and it’s with sickening dread that Ryan realises what David’s getting at. Can – can he _tell?_

“Are – are you – asking me out?” Ryan stammers, and David smiles. “But – I’m – can you-”

            “So… yes? No?” David asks lightly.   
            “You can – ” Ryan starts, backtracks hastily, “do you think I’m -” he’s never been able to say it, not since the first, the only, time.   
            “Well, you know, hoped? And I figure, what have I got to lose, switching shifts and all-” David’s smile falters a little, though. “So, sensing a no on going out.”   
            For a moment, Ryan’s _angry_ with himself. He’s just – fuck, he’s _ruined_ himself, he really has. David’s – he’s nice, he’s so nice, and he’s really good looking, and he’s asking Ryan out, this could _be_ something – but Ryan can’t handle even the idea. He can’t even say yes to David, because even now, all he can think is _I wanted Aaron to want me like this,_ he doesn’t _want_ someone else.   
            “Sorry,” Ryan manages, rushes to leave before he does something stupid, like start to cry. When he gets back to Pete’s apartment, it’s dark and quiet, Pete already asleep. Ryan gets ready for bed quietly, somehow so exhausted by the time he’s collapsing on Pete’s ridiculously big couch, his bed for the summer. He curls in against the cushion, so frustrated with the tears he’s having a really hard time fighting. All he can do is cry about this, for everything he’s lost, he can’t stop and it’s just so _useless._ This isn’t the first thing that loving Aaron has wrecked for him; it won’t be the last.   
0o0o0o0o0o  
            The Saturday of his last weekend in Toronto, Ryan wakes up too early. It happens so frequently, though, he should be used to it by now. He can only remember a few things about kissing Aaron, his soft lips and the look of horrified shock on his face, but in Ryan’s dreams, he sees all the ways he could have ruined everything. Last night was one of the worst, had him and Aaron out on the ice, and after Aaron scores, Ryan hugs him hard and suddenly kisses him. Aaron jerks away, scrambling backwards so fast he falls to the ice, yelping like Ryan hurt him. The game ends, and when Ryan goes to the locker room he finds he’s been locked out, and he always wakes up at the same part, when he’s sobbing on the bench outside the arena, thrown out of the only home he had left.   
            Mornings are never good, when he wakes up from a dream like that in tears, and all Ryan can really do is try to forget about it, just force himself to get past it.   
            “Last weekend, dude,” Pete says when they’re both in the kitchen that morning. “Unless you wanna move in,” he adds, grinning.   
            “Nice try,” Ryan laughs. Pete’s been begging all summer, and if he had it his way, Ryan would transfer to U of T and be his roommate, because Pete’s finicky about his roommates, and they get along great. Ryan has nothing he used to call his own left in BC, but he could never _leave._ It’s still where everything used to be, it’s still where Kate and her family live, it’s still where Aaron is, and it still looks like the place Ryan called home. And Toronto – this will always be the city where he spent his worst summer so far, cried himself to sleep too many times, turned down someone possibly great for him just because the idea of seeing anyone else hurt so, so much.   
            “Anything you wanna do before you leave?” Pete asks. Ryan pauses, but he knows what he wants. He’s known for a long time.   
            “Yeah. Um, there’s. One thing.”   
            He goes to the tattoo parlour after Pete leaves for work, checks in for his appointment. He follows the tattooist into the back, focuses on answering all the tattooists questions, making sure he hasn’t changed his mind since the consultation. There’s a chair beside where he’s told to sit, and Ryan can’t look at it without thinking about the way he’d always thought this would go, who would be there.   
            When it’s done, he just sits there for a moment, looking down at the numbers tattooed over his heart. It’s a sixty-eight over a ninety-six. His jersey number – and Aaron’s, the ones they’ve always worn. He’s always wanted this, wanted not proof, but a comforting reminder of what’s his, the way they fit together. He’d been working on how he wanted to tell Aaron his idea, but now, it’s become something Aaron will never know about. This was supposed to be his, to remind him that no matter how bad things get, there’s always somewhere he belongs, he has something that will keep him going forever. It’s different now, though, his imagined tattoo may look the same as the one on his skin, but they mean different things. His tattoo was supposed to tell him _don’t forget this, it’s always here,_ and today was supposed to be in Vancouver, Aaron at his side, it shouldn’t be like this, the day he swears not to cry about what he’s lost anymore.   
            This, the tattoo over his heart – this is Ryan’s goodbye to everything he had. 


	6. Chapter 6

            Ryan wishes he could at least say that he considered not coming back to the Werewolves. He couldn’t do it, though, couldn’t even think about giving up the last place he might see Aaron now, even though he doesn’t have any hope left at all, that this team could still feel like somewhere he belongs. He never did find a place amongst their teammates; playing as Aaron’s partner was where he was supposed to be, and even if he goes back, he won’t find that place again. But he just – he can’t give it up, even though he’s so nervous, he spends the whole day of their first game feeling sick with anxiety.  
            His pulse is racing when he finally gets to the rink, and he doesn’t know if he wants Aaron to be here already or not. He hasn’t seen Aaron in _so long,_ and the last time he did – fuck, he can’t think about it, he can’t, just can’t. He’s so glad they’re not playing on that ice, and he takes the long way to the locker room just to avoid seeing that rink. He hasn’t seen it since – then, certainly wasn’t able to go to drop-in hockey in the two weeks after he got back before the season started. It’s just not something he thinks he could _handle,_ so afraid to see Aaron. Except – now he’s going to, and oh, he’s just _so scared._    
            Aaron isn’t there when Ryan walks into the locker room. And as afraid as he is to see Aaron, it’s not a relief. He goes to sit on the other end of the bench from the handful of teammates that are already here. What if – what if Aaron isn’t coming back? What if it’s _because_ he thought Ryan might be here? If he’s not coming back – Ryan really doesn’t have a place here, without Aaron, he won’t even be able to see where he used to fit in, and if Aaron’s not coming back, Ryan won’t either. If Aaron’s gone, it’ll be like Ryan was never here.  
            He sneaks a look up after he hears the locker room door close, every time. It keeps on being someone else, though, and he’s feeling more unsteady every time it’s not Aaron. _Please come,_ he wants to beg, even though he spent all day hoping the game would just never come.  
He’s gone to Forestry to study every afternoon, and if he hadn’t sworn he’d never cry about this again, that alone would have done it, walking in every day and seeing their space empty. It was so bad today, sitting there staring at Aaron’s empty space and wondering if he’d see Aaron tonight, this last chance he really has.  
            Ten minutes later, the door opens, and it’s finally, finally Aaron. Ryan jerks his gaze away, stares down at his skates and ignores the way it feels like something in his chest’s cracked, shattered, gone to irreparable pieces. Aaron _came back._ He’s still here, and maybe it’s because he didn’t think Ryan would be, but at least he’s here, hasn’t left yet, is _here._ Ryan can’t look at him, though, almost wants to hide because he _ruined_ them, it’s his fault they’re this way.  
            Aaron doesn’t play defense. Ryan dresses slowly so he misses warmups, and when he gets out to the bench, Aaron’s already on the ice, at centre. He’s – he’s not on defense, he’s really not, and Ryan wants to wonder _why not how could you,_ but he knows. This is worse than Aaron not showing up at all, this is Aaron coming back and showing Ryan that he really doesn’t belong here anymore.   For the whole game, Ryan makes sure he’s never on the ice at the same time as Aaron, because he just couldn’t take that. This is the only way he’s been able to survive everything he’s gone through – knowing his limits, knowing when to give up and just stop hurting himself.  
            He manages to hold it together until he goes home and can finally get into the bed, hide under the covers the way he wanted to hide from the moment Aaron walked in the door. It’s just – it’s _so fucking unfair,_ why does he have to _be_ this way? All it does is _ruin everything,_ he never wanted this, never wanted to be like this, his best friend completely ignoring him, everything he had gone. He’d promised himself he was done crying over this, but as he dissolves into tears and sobs into his pillow, he realises that was never a promise he could keep.  
            That night, he dreams he kissed Aaron way back in the beginning of high school, next to their lockers, and Aaron stopped being friends with him eight years ago. He wakes up at four AM, terrified that really happened, but even when he realises he hasn’t lived through eight years without Aaron, it isn’t even remotely comforting, because what’s eight years without Aaron when he knows that Aaron’s never, never coming back.  
0o0o0o  
            By their third game, Ryan’s become used to the fact that he can’t get anything done on Tuesdays. There are still two hours until he can leave for the game, and he’s sitting in the living room with his textbook open on his lap, hasn’t read a word in the hour he’s been here.  
            “Hey, dude,” Brett climbs over the back of the couch, grabs the remote. “You studying?” he asks, pausing.  
            “Not really.”  
            “Cool.” Brett turns on the TV, starts flipping through channels at lightspeed. He’s always done this; when a bunch of them would hang out back in high school, there was always someone trying to steal the remote away from Brett so he wouldn’t drive everyone insane. “Oh, also! Pete said you got a tattoo in Toronto? You didn’t tell me, man!”  
            “Naah, I just made an appointment,” Ryan says, suddenly feels so fiercely protective of the numbers on his chest. He just – doesn’t want anyone to know. There was only one person it felt right to show it to first, and because that will never happen, he doesn’t want anyone else to see it. It’s – it’s _his,_ just his. “Chickened out and cancelled, though.”  
            “No shit,” Brett laughs.  
            “Tattoos are supposed to _hurt._ Couldn’t go through with it.” He shifts uncomfortably, feels absurdly like his tattoo’s visible even through his shirt. “I’m gonna go get my hockey shit together,” he says, can’t take just sitting here and thinking about the game.  
            “Cool.” Brett’s busily clicking through the guide to see every show that will be on MTV for the next six hours.  
            Ryan goes back to trying to study in his room, gets nothing done, and two hours later, he can finally leave for the rink. Having to bus to the arena with all his gear makes him miss driving there with Aaron, and it’s almost laughable, that he can miss something so small. In the middle of all this, this fucking _void_ left in his life, he’s standing in the rain at a busstop, thinking about how he misses getting picked up at his building by Aaron. Well – technically, his apartment. Aaron always came all the way to the door to get him. And carried his stick for him. And Aaron let him pick what radio station, even let him program all the presets the way he wanted. And they’d talk and argue about things and make bets, these little promises they made to each other. And – maybe it wasn’t just a car ride, because now Ryan’s blinking away tears, misses Aaron _so bad._  
            The game doesn’t go well, but neither did the last two, either. Ryan drags through the whole thing, only careful in his avoidance of Aaron. His shots are wide, his passes are sloppy, and he takes too-shorts shifts, and no one notices a thing. Aaron’s here, but he’s playing offense, and if Ryan so much as looks at him, he’d probably lose it.  
            After the game, he takes off his gear slowly, wants Aaron to leave first. The thought of walking through the parking lot and going past Aaron’s car just feels like it’d be more than he could take. He waits until everyone else showers then goes to take his, takes as long as possible in the hopes that Aaron will have left by the time he’s done. He hangs back a while after he’s done, too, changes into his jeans and slings his towel around his neck so it covers his tattoo. Aaron’s still in the locker room when he comes out, though, no one else left. Aaron doesn’t look up, though, busily searching for something.  
            Ryan watches for a while, _aching_ to talk to him. It’s just them here, but they’re across the room from each other, and Aaron isn’t even _looking_ at him. And Ryan has to say _something,_ because he’s going to break down and cry otherwise, and between the two options, he’d rather face the terror of speaking to Aaron.  
            “Lost something?” he ventures. _Please talk to me,_ he wants to plead, feels like he could throw up from how nervous he is. Aaron looks over at him, and Ryan clenches his teeth to keep from crying. Aaron looks away again.  
            “Car keys,” Aaron says, voice quiet.  
            “Oh.” Fuck, this isn’t them, it isn’t them at _all,_ and Ryan just wants to leave. He just – he can’t do this anymore, pretend like he can handle seeing Aaron every week. There’s no way he’ll come back next week, he’s not coming back to this. He casts around to find his shirt, finds it in his bag, and tosses his towel into the bag as he untangles his balled-up shirt. Fuck, why did he think he could do this? He can’t, he _can’t._  
            “New tattoo?” Aaron says lightly, and Ryan freezes. He forgot to hide it, he _forgot,_ why the fuck did he _forget –_ what if Aaron’s mad? What if Aaron thinks – thinks Ryan has no right to have Aaron’s number on his skin? Ryan forces himself to stay calm, and just shrugs.  
            “I was really drunk. Woke up and I had it,” he says. Surely Aaron will believe that – Ryan’s certainly proved that he does terrible, world-wrecking things when he’s drunk. He hurries to pack up the rest of his stuff and get dressed, rushes out of the locker room without another word.  
            When he gets to the parking lot, though, he stops. Aaron still parks in the same space he did last year. Ryan thinks of Aaron searching for his keys, something Ryan’s seen a thousand times, and before he can think better of it, he texts Aaron what he would say if he was standing there waiting for him. _Check ur hoodie pocket, u always forget u put ur keys there,_ he sends.  
            _Thanks,_ Aaron writes back, and Ryan’s all the way back across the lot with his hand on the door back into the rink before he remembers – he can go back to Aaron, but Aaron doesn’t want him back, Ryan’s not ever going to find what he’s looking for.  
            He walks away, and in his dreams that night, he imagines he went back into the rink. And Aaron – he pulls Ryan into his arms, hugs him tight and whispers _it’s not your fault._  
It hurts more than any nightmare he’s ever had.  
0o0o0o0o0  
            He tells himself he’s been thinking about it all week, but when he decides to go to the game on Tuesday, it’s not much of a decision. He knew he’d come back, because for a few brief moments after last game, it almost, _almost_ felt like he’d someday get Aaron back. Because Aaron talked to him, texted him back like it was almost normal, and hope is so foreign to him, Ryan can’t help but cling to it desperately. He goes to the game and it’s _terrible,_ and two days later, he’s still wincing from the bruises he has everywhere. Except – this game, it was – different. Not in his play, he was getting shoved around like always and just couldn’t bring himself to care enough to fight back. He just telling himself _it’s not like it matters, I’m not coming back next week_ and knowing it wasn’t true. It bothers his teammates more than him when he gets crosschecked, he just huffs out a frustrated breath and tries to push away from the boards, some guys stick pressed hard against his back. Someone yanks the guy away for him, and when he turns, he sees Aaron hitting the guy until he’s forced to go to the penalty box.  
            Even two days later, he still doesn’t understand – Aaron _defended_ him, why did Aaron _do_ that? Ryan hates that it’s come to this, Aaron having no reason to defend him, and he still doesn’t _get_ it. The only explanation he can think of is that it’s just habit, and that eventually, the natural reaction he has to Ryan getting pushed around will fade away now that he has no reason to be angry about it anymore.  
            He’s studying in Forestry, because he can’t stop doing this to himself, keeps going back even though he gave up on Aaron coming back a long time ago. It’s just – this has always been the place where Aaron comes to him, _for_ him, and Ryan misses Aaron wanting him even that much. It’s just – just so _painful,_ because nothing’s changed, he hasn’t changed, and  yet, being here just makes it all the more obvious, what he’s missing.  
            Ryan forces himself to focus on studying, just think about this. Before long, at least he can immerse himself in worrying about his assignment, because it’s stupid and how can he write an entire paper on such a stupid prompt? He chews the end of his pen as he reads the same page again, probably for the fifth time.  
            He hears the chair across from him get pulled out, doesn’t have to look up to know who it is. “Hey, dude,” he says. He frowns when he gets to the bottom of the page, because what the _fuck,_ is he supposed to _care_ about the way the author mentions fucking _foliage?_ And what’s more, why the hell does the author _babble_ so much? “This is seriously the stupidest book I’ve-” he looks up, and the words die on his lips.  
            Aaron is _right there._ Holy fuck, he’s _here,_ and Ryan can’t breathe, can’t think, _Aaron is here._ “What’re you doing here?” he asks. This – this can’t be normal, things like that don’t _happen_ to him, people don’t come back, he doesn’t recover what he’s lost. Oh, what if Aaron’s here to – to say things that will make Ryan dissolve into tears and wish for the millionth time this year that he didn’t ruin everything – Ryan wouldn’t be able to _take_ it-  
            Aaron shrugs, says “I have this paper I’m having a really fucking hard time with.” It’s like – like everything’s _normal._ Ryan’s pulse is racing, but he fights to hide how nervous he is. He can’t do anything to remind Aaron they’re not the way they used to be, maybe – maybe Aaron forgot, and Ryan would never remind him _no, Aaron, we fell apart, I kissed you and now you know how much I love you, you don’t want me anymore._  
            “Shocker,” he says, smiles as best he can. Fuck, he’s so nervous he could throw up, this is _so hard._ Has Aaron – has he really come back? If he is – _please,_ let him really be _back –_ Ryan could fall apart from how relieved he is. Could he really have gotten Aaron back?  
            “Yeah, well, fuck you, we aren’t all English majors,” Aaron says, and Aaron’s actually smiling at him, saying things that are familiar, and maybe he’s _really back._  
“Thank God for that, dude, or else we’d have to read like, ‘Shakespeare for Dumbasses’ in class.”  
            “It’s _For Dummies,_ not _Dumbasses,_ you can’t seriously think they’d call a book series _that.”_  
            “I would,” Ryan shrugs, tries not to smile too big. “Gimme your essay,” he says, shoves his book aside.  
            “What?”  
            “It’s necromancy time, man. Gonna bring it back to life.”  
            “Yeah, _hilarious,_ asshole,” Aaron slides a paper over, “good luck doing a séance on that thing, it’s pretty definitely dead.” Ryan’s always loved Aaron relying on him for this, feeling like Aaron needs him. It’s like the way they’re both terrible at math, and struggling always felt more bearable when Aaron was beside him, swearing every time his pencil broke and resorting to multiplication by decimals whenever he was at a loss for what to do.  
            “Isn’t that like an exorcism?” he asks, happily reading through Aaron’s paper on global politics.  
            “I dunno, but if that’s what it takes to help me pass, that’s cool too.” He sits there watching Ryan correct his paper, and Ryan tries to focus on it, act as normal as possible. Is Aaron expecting him to be different? What if Aaron’s just – studying him for signs of this thing he’s always kept hidden, is he suspicious Ryan’s hiding things from him? Ryan rewrites lines and circles grammatical mistakes, forces himself to just think about the paper. Unless he’s focusing too much? Or not enough? Is he glancing up at Aaron too many times, he probably is, and he’s tapping his pen against the table and Aaron can probably tell he’s nervous, fuck.  
            “It can’t be _that_ bad,” Aaron says, and he’s smiling. Ryan draws in a slow breath, tries to steady himself. He can do this. He’s not going to wreck this twice.  
            “I dunno, dude, you used the wrong _their,_ and went a little ‘ _whom’_ happy.”  
            “It sounded fancier!” Aaron protests.  
            Way too soon, it’s nearly two o’clock. “I’ve got – class,” Ryan says, can’t bring himself to say _sociology,_ because when they were in sociology together – it’s over, it’s okay, he doesn’t have to think about that now. Aaron’s not in his class, can’t avoid sitting next to him. Even so, having to tell Aaron his schedule – there will never stop being reminders to tell him _everything fell apart._  
“Okay,” Aaron looks up from his paper. He’s been reading Ryan’s corrections, and some part of Ryan’s just glowing with pride, having his writing all over Aaron’s papers again. Ryan packs up his stuff slowly, tries not to keep glancing up, hoping Aaron will – what? Stop him? Ryan doesn’t know what he wants anymore, feels like he’s going to break apart from nerves and relief and terror. “What’re you doing tomorrow night?”         
            “Nothing,” Ryan says, gaze darting to Aaron’s face. Is this – what, a test? Please, no. Should he have said yes? Maybe he’s supposed to be proving he isn’t overly into Aaron, or – something.  
            “Oh, cool,” Aaron says, pauses. Ryan ducks his head, focuses on collecting the rest of his stuff and zipping up his backpack. He stands, slowly pushes his chair back in. “So, I found a Mexican place that looks really good. Wanna do that?” Ryan smiles, flooded with relief.  
            “Yeah,” he says, kind of breathless with it, because _Aaron wants to see him yes yes yes,_ “Yeah, when?”  
            “I’ll come by at like. Six?”  
            Ryan nods, can’t help but smile. “Totally, see you then.” He goes to class, is very nearly late, but nothing could bother him right now. Aaron  - Aaron wants him _back,_ hasn’t abandoned him, doesn’t hate him, and _oh,_ Ryan didn’t know just how bad everything was until he felt this. Suddenly, he can breathe again. And – it feels really good, something unlocking inside him, because he didn’t lose everything, he’s going to be okay. He has Aaron back; he’ll be okay.  
  



	7. Chapter 7

            After his last class on Friday, Ryan’s eager to go home, wait for six o’clock to finally get here. “Got plans?” Elise asks as they leave the building, and Ryan shrugs a shoulder.  
            “Kinda, yeah.” He never told her, never told anyone, exactly what happened. Some people know pieces of it, but the whole story, that’s theirs alone.  
            “Good,” she says, so definitively Ryan looks over at her, arches an eyebrow. “Have fun,” is all she says, and she smiles, heads off towards the parking lot.  
            By five-thirty that evening, Ryan’s nervousness is level with his excitement. He _really_ can’t wait, even though seeing Aaron again almost feels like pushing his luck, like he’s going to do something to push Aaron away again. But no, he’s not going to think about it, not going to think about losing Aaron _twice,_ that would – just, no. He’s looking forward to this too much to dwell on all the bad things that could happen. Things are almost _normal,_ now. No doubt there’ll be other people there tonight, which won’t be normal, but fully expected, and he’s so overwhelmingly happy that Aaron came back that he doesn’t care about anything but seeing Aaron.  
            There’s still a half hour, though, so he goes to the living room to watch Evan play COD, something Evan’s spectacularly bad at. While Evan’s all-but screeching _no_ as he gets snuck up on yet again by another player – for at least the nineteenth time – Ryan thinks he hears the front door open. Then Brett appears behind the couch, looking down at him.  
            “Aaron’s here,” he says, sounds something like surprised. Ryan ignores that, because there’s not much he can say when the surprise is completely founded, and goes to the door.  
            “Hey,” Aaron grins at him from the hallway, looks a little sheepish. “Sorry for being like, stupid early.”  
            “’s cool,” Ryan says, as if he would ever complain about Aaron being here sooner than expected. They head downstairs, and it’s just – weird, seeing Aaron parked in front of his building again after so long without him. As Aaron works on un-parallel-parking the car, Ryan goes through the radio stations, clicking back and forth to find one that isn’t playing commercials. It’s a moment before he realises that Aaron never changed the presets, they’re still the same as the day Ryan programmed them, sitting in traffic in the middle of summer, a day that was ridiculously hot, Ryan distracting himself with the radio so he wouldn’t stare at Aaron, who was shirtless.  
            “Dude, you’re totally going to love this place,” Aaron’s telling him, “except, I can’t pronounce anything on the menu, so. It’s super authentic.”  
            “If that’s what authentic means, _lots_ of restaurants are authentic,” Ryan says, and Aaron makes a face at him. “Especially Italian ones.”  
            “At least my Chinese is perfect.”  
            “You don’t speak Chinese.”  
            “But I can totally sound things out. That counts. And if you say it doesn’t, I’m keeping my amazing translating skills to myself at all Chinese restaurants.”  
            “And you know they usually have the menu in English, right?” Ryan says, tries not to smile too much every time Aaron says something that means _we’re going to keep doing things together._  
When they get to the restaurant, there’s no one waiting for them, and when they get directed to a small two-person table, Ryan realises it really is just them, just like always, things are _really normal._ He looks over the menu as Aaron stumbles over the names of things, pauses when he sees that it’s not a typical Mexican restaurant, it’s the kind with mini tacos. And – one year during high school, Ryan’s family went to Mexico for vacation and he told Aaron about the awesome mini tacos and lamented the lack of Mexican restaurants like that in Vancouver, and they looked for weeks before giving up and accepting defeat. Aaron probably doesn’t even remember that, but it’s still a happy coincidence.  
            “This kind of thing’s awesome,” he says, and Aaron grins.  
            “Only took me six years to find it. I’m still working on the timing part of my awesome skills.” It takes Ryan a second to register what this means – Aaron _remembers,_ and what’s more, he _wanted_ to do this for Ryan. It’s like – like he’s saying they can be best friends again, saying it’s okay, he’ll forget what Ryan did, everything’s going to be okay, they can be the way they always were.  
            “It’s Mexican food, anyone else would take ten years,” Ryan says, grinning.  
            This – this feels almost normal. Maybe, if he’s careful, he can keep it, maybe Aaron won’t leave ever again.  
0o0o0o0o0o  
            Things are almost back to the way they used to be. Aaron comes to Forestry to study with him, and they’re doing things together again, Aaron’s name is back in Ryan’s text inbox and comes up in conversation when Ryan gets asked if he has plans. It’s a relief, to have Aaron to depend on in the middle of everything. Ryan misses Madison’s birthday because they’re having a party at the house, and can’t see Bentley’s hockey games because his parents like to go to all of them, and he couldn’t go home for Thanksgiving. He’s just so relieved to have Aaron back, to like hockey again and have one single thing he didn’t ruin.  
            Early in November, Aaron invites him over, and it’s odd, seeing his apartment again. Nothing’s changed, and that’s somehow a relief, recognizing it all as he follows Aaron into the living room. His roommates have claimed the TV for a superhero movie marathon, and Ryan loved Aaron’s text, asking _please come be on my team when they vote for the next movie. They have super bad taste,_ likes the natural assumption that he’ll be on Aaron’s side.  
            “Batman Begins?” Tim’s asking, kneeling in front of the laptop sitting on the floor and clicking through movie options. “Or Spiderman? Or Ironman?”  
            “Spiderman,” Drew declares, gets kicked in the shoulder by Sean, who’s sitting on the couch behind Drew’s spot on the floor.  
            “Spiderman’s stupid. Batman.”  
            “No,” Aaron protests, “no way are we watching Batman. Ironman.” He looks to Ryan beside him, and Ryan nods.  
            “Obviously.”  
            They settle on Ironman, and Tim comes back to his spot on the couch, pushes Aaron aside to make room between him and Sean. It’s an L-shaped couch, so there should be a lot of room, but Sean’s sprawled over nearly half, but Ryan can’t complain. He’s got his favourite part, sitting right at the corner beside Aaron, and Sean and Tim are taking up so much space that Aaron’s sitting really close. Ryan tried not to get too close, hyper-aware of it, but Aaron’s the one that scooted over, so it’s not his fault.  
            “No, wait,” Tim says, frowning at the screen, “gotta let it load first, shitty connection.” He gets up to pause the laggy movie, to give it time to load.  
            “Food break!” Drew cheers, jumps up, “I saw nachos in the fridge!”  
            _“They’re mine!”_ Sean runs after him, nearly trips over the coffee table in his haste. Ryan thinks Aaron will scoot over into the empty space, but he stays, one arm thrown over the back of the couch behind Ryan, the picture of casual while Ryan doesn’t know if he’s feeling more nervous or thrilled.  
            “I’m surprised they haven’t killed each other over food yet,” Aaron says, shaking his head. “I thought one of them  wouldn’t live through the summer because the other’d kill him over ice cream. So, you know, summer entertainment.”  
            “Sounds fun,” Ryan grins, doesn’t let himself think about how he wasn’t here this summer, Aaron didn’t want him here this summer.  
            “Or something. How was your summer?” Aaron asks, and Ryan hesitates.  
            “Mostly worked,” he says, the only thing he can bring himself to share. By then, thankfully, Drew and Sean come back to sulk about the nachos already being gone, and Ryan doesn’t have to answer Aaron any further. He doesn’t want to _think_ about his summer, it wasn’t – it wasn’t what he wanted. Every now and then, though, he thinks about being asked out by David, and sometimes he wonders what it’d be like, if he’d said yes. Maybe they’d still be together, maybe he’d be doing long distance with David, making plans for David to come visit him, saying _I love you_ on the phone every night. And Ryan just can’t want that, he can’t want anything but this, just wants Aaron.    
            By eleven thirty, Ryan’s ready to fall asleep. He was up early today, sleepless over so many things, and before long, he falls asleep. He gets woken up not much later by Tim and Sean screaming _spiderman awaaaayyyyy!,_ and apparently somewhere along the line, they switched the movie to Spiderman. Whatever, Ryan can’t stand that movie, he shifts further onto his side and oh, _fuck,_ he fell asleep on Aaron’s shoulder, jerks back as soon as he realises. _Fucking fuck,_ he’s supposed to be pretending like he’s not into Aaron, and being so close to him can’t be proving that at _all._  
            “Sorry,” he stammers out, but Aaron doesn’t look angry, just a little perplexed.  
            “’s okay,” he says, “can’t blame you, man. Spiderman’s boring.” He thinks – thinks Ryan’s apologizing for falling asleep, not for sleeping _on_ him, and Ryan smiles, so heartened by this. Every time he fucks up, he thinks this is it, he’s lost Aaron again, and every time that’s not the case, it’s like feeling it all over again, the sheer relief at having him back. It’s a moment before Ryan realises – they weren’t watching this when he fell asleep, and now they’re nearly halfway through. And – Aaron’s just let Ryan sleep on him for the past hour.  
            Long after Ryan goes home, he’s still thinking about that, and maybe, everything will be okay. Maybe he really won’t ruin them this time.  
0o0o0o0o  
            December is always hard. It’s one of Ryan’s least favourite months, right after September, because Christmas is almost as bad as the month that reminds him of the day he left home. He can’t even go to Kate’s this year, and he doesn’t want to stay here alone, so when Josh mentioned he wished more of his friends were Jewish so they’d come up to Whistler with him, Ryan lied and said his parents were going away for Christmas, so he was free. December’s been bearable, with a distracting trip to look forward to, and Aaron drives him to their hockey games now, and every little piece of them that Ryan gets back makes his life that much easier.  
            Aaron texts him right as Ryan’s heading home after his last final, asking what he’s doing. _Have to pack for skitrip tomorrow,_ Ryan replies, already trying to think of how to find time to do something with Aaron anyways.  
            _Packing’s boring, I’ll come assist,_ Aaron writes back. _Half an hour ok?_  
 _Sounds good,_ Ryan replies, even though it sounds more like perfect. Aaron hasn’t been over to his apartment since before summer, because Ryan just – doesn’t know how to ask. He’s afraid to do anything to offset the balance of what they’re doing, and it’s just easier to let Aaron show him how much is enough, what’s okay, where to go.  
            Twenty minutes later, Aaron’s laying on Ryan’s bed, watching him pack. Ryan’s never liked leaving him, and the few times he has, Aaron’s always been there to watch him pack. It’s sort of steadying, even though everything he throws into the suitcase makes him think _why am I going? Why am I leaving him?_ It’s not like he has much of a choice; Aaron’s going home for Christmas, like everyone else is. It’s been so long since he’s been here in Ryan’s apartment; leaving just feels worse.  
            “So is your family going to Whistler, or what?” Aaron asks, and Ryan nods. He almost wants to tell Aaron the truth, but – no, he can’t. What if it reminds Aaron, it would be telling Aaron _here’s why you shouldn’t have come back,_ telling him _this is why they left me,_ and what if Aaron leaves too?  
            “Wonder what the snow’s gonna be like there,” he says instead of telling Aaron the words that burn at him, _no, my parents don’t want anything to do with my anymore, of course they’re not going._ He looks over at Aaron, hopes Aaron won’t comment on the subject switch.  
            “Annika was up there a week ago, said it was like, a foot of visibility,” Aarons says. Ryan frowns, doesn’t recognise the name. Reminders like this, that there’s always going to be a time he wasn’t _there,_ he missed out on months and sometimes, it makes him feel like a stranger in the most important friendship he has.  
            “Who?”  
            “This girl I know. We’ve gone out a couple times,” Aaron says. Ryan freezes, stares down at the open drawer in front of him. It’s not like it’s a _surprise,_ that Aaron’s dating, but – he still doesn’t like it, just hates anyone who gets what he wants _so badly,_ anyone who Aaron loves like that.  
            “Oh. Well, maybe it’ll have cleared up by now,” he says, just doesn’t want to hear anything more about this girl, doesn’t want to be able to imagine what she’s like.  
            “Yeah, hope so.” When he looks back, Aaron’s just lying there, chin on his folded arms. Ryan wants _so badly_ to be allowed to kiss him, but that right’s been given to some girl, will never be his. “What time do you leave? Guessing from how you have no packing done, I’m betting super early tomorrow morning.”  
            “Totally not correlated things.”  
            “The closer it is, the less prepared you are with packing,” Aaron says, grins when Ryan throws a glove at him.  
            A while later, Ryan finally finishes packing, zips up his bag slowly as he sneaks looks up at Aaron. He’s not going to – leave now, is he? Aaron doesn’t seem about to move though, so Ryan just climbs up onto his bed and lies down next to Aaron, head down on the blankets.  
            “Wish I was going to Whistler,” Aaron says, nudging him gently. “Way cooler than going home.” Ryan just nods, doesn’t trust himself to say anything.  He’d rather be going home, wants _so badly_ to go home. He’s started to lose details in his memories, can’t even go back that way. He doesn’t want to go anywhere, wants to be back in the living room, Kate singing to Bentley in the kitchen as she made him lunch, Ryan’s dad on his laptop reading off sentences he found interesting in whatever article he was reading, and Ryan’s mom coming to ask Ryan if he had any homework over the break and kiss the top of his head. Ryan forces the years-old memories away, tries to focus on Aaron. Fuck, that first year, he thought for sure Aaron would notice something was wrong, but Aaron never has, and Ryan doesn’t know what that says about either of them.  
            “You get back the day before school starts?” Aaron asks.  
            “Uh-huh.”  
            “Cool.” Aaron’s quiet for a moment, looks at Ryan for a few seconds before looking away again. “I’m gonna miss you,” he says softly, and then, quickly, “you know, I think you forgot to pack your phone charger.”  
            “Um, yeah.” Ryan’s still trying to backtrack, because – Aaron’s going to miss him. Miss him, because he’d rather Ryan was near him than not, and _oh,_ that’s all Ryan wants. Aaron’s getting up, though, saying he should probably head home, and Ryan has no way to tell him _I’ll miss you too_ without drawing too much attention to it, making it mean too much. He lets it go, but when Aaron’s about to leave, pulls him into a hug.  
            “See you,” Aaron says, and it’s casual, but he says it so softly and hugs Ryan so tight that even hours later, Ryan’s still thinking about it. It’s unfair, that he can get _so close_ to everything he wants, but maybe this mimicry of it is all he deserves. He’ll take it, though. Aaron’s going to miss him; that means Ryan hasn’t done everything wrong. 


	8. Chapter 8

            Winter break feels like it stretches out forever, even though their school’s break is shorter than seemingly every other university’s. Ryan can’t stand how long it is, though, every day felt longer than the last. Christmas was hands-down the worst; Kate called him and he talked to her and the kids, and he cried when he hung up, wanted so, so badly to be at home. Seeing Aaron in Forestry and then for dinner the first day after break made it so much better, though, let him forget everything, lose every terrible winter day in the way Aaron hugged him and said break was boring without him.

It’s only been a few days, but Ryan already wants to see Aaron again. This didn’t use to be a problem – their normal state was _together,_ and he didn’t have to worry about wanting that when Aaron wanting to see him too wasn’t something he even thought to doubt.

He spends the afternoon working on a paper due soon, books and papers spread out on the coffee table. It helps to take his mind off everything, but nothing can do that entirely. As he’s checking for typos – he spends so long reading and rereading as he works on papers that he just stops seeing typos, it’s so inconvenient – someone knocks on the door. His roommates are gone, so maybe it’s one of them; Evan tends to forget his keys a lot. When he opens the front door, though, it’s _Aaron._ Ryan can’t forget even for a second that Aaron hasn’t spent any time here in _months,_ that he doesn’t just show up randomly anymore, but Ryan hides his shock quickly, doesn’t want Aaron to leave, has missed this so much.

“What’s up?” he says, goes back to the living room, hoping Aaron will follow. Aaron does, thankfully, like this is normal for them again.

“What’re you doing?” He comes into the living room after Ryan, seems to smile at the sight of Ryan’s things spread over the coffee table.

“I’m done my paper,” Ryan sits back in his spot on the couch, and Aaron sits on the other side, smiles at him.

“Good,” he says.

“Good?”

“Good,” Aaron repeats, and Ryan smiles when he gets what Aaron’s talking about. He pushes over his laptop happily, doesn’t know how to thank Aaron for this kind of thing, for putting them back the way they were, little by little.

“Have at it.” He watches Aaron edit, scoots in probably too close to pretend to read over his shoulder. It’s just about social symbols; Ryan can never bring himself to ask for help on his English papers, it just feels so – personal, maybe. As much as he loves English, it worries him too, because he feels so much ownership over what he writes, he’s just so worried that it shows too much of himself. He’s happy to sit there as Aaron reads, wants so badly to scoot in even closer, wrap his arms around Aaron and just watch him type, cheek against Aaron’s shoulder. Ryan’s not sure if he wants these things more now, or if he’s getting bad at hiding it from everyone and himself, but he _really_ wants it, wants it so badly.  

When Aaron’s phone buzzes where he left it on the table, Aaron asks “tell me what it says?” like whoever it is can’t be more important than what he’s doing for Ryan. Ryan grins, grabs it off the table.

It’s from someone named Jordan, and, okay, fine, Ryan doesn’t know all of Aaron’s friends anymore. He ignores the way that hurts, opens the message. He can’t help the confused sound he makes when he sees it says _had a great time last night! Definitely want to do it again soon._

“Who’s Jordan?” he asks, tries to keep it as light as he can, “they say they had a good time last night and want to see you again soon.”

“Went on a date last night,” Aaron says, still reading, “Annika set me up with Jordan.”

“Oh.” Ryan puts the phone back down, doesn’t want to think about another date, about the day one of these dates becomes a girlfriend, the day he loses Aaron even more. It’s just – fuck, it’s not _fair,_ how Aaron can do this easily, and he’s gonna date this girl and if he likes her he’ll introduce her to his family, and Ryan will lose him a little more, and he’ll _never_ have what he wants. “I’m starving, want anything?” he says, because if he stays in the room longer he’s either going to get unaccountably angry with Aaron, or just cry.

“Anything,” Aaron says. Ryan heads into the kitchen, just stands there at the counter a while, head in his hands, tries not to think. He just – never wants to face this, and while it isn’t unexpected, his own anger surprises him. He doesn’t _want_ to resent Aaron for this, but fuck, everything is so easy for Aaron, and this, this will be too, while it’s the hardest thing in Ryan’s life. Ryan’s never going to have who he wants, which just makes it _worse,_ suffering without getting anything to make all this worth it. It’d be okay, be _worth_ it, if he could have Aaron, but he’s not, he’s never going to, and he just wants what Aaron will have, everything he wants.

When he goes back into the living room with food, he doesn’t sit as close to Aaron; it suddenly feels like trespassing. “You haven’t gone out with anyone in a while,” Aaron comments, and what the _fuck._ Ryan wants to snarl _because I can’t,_ as much as he wants to dissolve into tears, because he _can’t,_ he can’t go out with who he wants, can’t go out with anyone, because then he’d lose everything, he can’t risk that much, he couldn’t stand to lose everything he has left. Aaron’s the only person worth risking that much on, and how many times has Aaron proved that wanting him is just a way to lose even more?

“Yeah,” he says, shrugs a shoulder, “how’s editing going?” _Please just stop,_ he wants to plead, _don’t make me talk about it._

Aaron switches back to teasing him about his typos, thankfully, and Ryan wants to cry in relief. Everything is just always so hard, and he doesn’t need that from Aaron too, just wants one place where everything is okay, where nothing hurts.

0o0o0o0o0o

On Wednesday, Ryan has a hard time sitting through his class. Aaron found a ball hockey rink at QE park, wants to go play there together, and Ryan can’t _wait._ He’s got his notebook put away even before class ends, and the second it’s over, he’s already halfway to the door. He spots Aaron down the hallway, talking to some guy Ryan’s never seen before. As he walks up, he hears the guy say “we should do something again soon,” in this – this _tone,_ too hopeful and too sweet, and Ryan’s just not sure what to make of it.

“Hey,” Ryan says, going up to them.

“Hey, dude,” Aaron replies before he looks back at the guy, “We should,” he says, and the way he says that, that’s _Ryan’s,_ that’s the way Aaron sounds when he finds something to do that Ryan loves, and when Ryan says _let’s do that again,_ Aaron always agrees, just like this. He can’t – can’t give that to someone else, but here Aaron is, giving someone else what Ryan thought belonged to just him. “Maybe Friday?”

“Great,” The guy smiles, “see you then.” He leaves, and Ryan’s so relieved when Aaron turns back to him immediately after the guy goes. He thought – for a second, it felt like Aaron wasn’t his anymore.

All day, Ryan can’t stop thinking about it. He just – doesn’t know. He’s known Aaron _forever,_ has never seen him quite like this. Ryan doesn’t know what to think, doesn’t know what’s going _on,_ and things can get worse – then can _always_ get worse – but not this bad. He doesn’t think they could _this_ bad, not even to him.

0o000o

Friday morning, Ryan’s woken up too early – well, seven-forty-five – by his phone ringing. He flails an arm towards the desk, leans way over because his phone’s all the way on the other side of the desk, for whatever reason. He manages to get a hold of his phone, tilts the screen towards him.

The screen reads _Mom._

Ryan falls over the side of the bed in shock, winces when he crashes to the floor, but _really?_ Could she really be wanting to have him back? She does, maybe she does, _please let her –_  he answers quickly, nearly fumbles with the phone.

“ _Mom?_ ” he says, can’t help how desperate and whimpery it is, because – because he misses her, he really needs her back, and maybe she _wants him back -_

“-Mommy’s on the phone, Maddy, just a sec-” he hears, Kate’s voice, and _oh._ It’s Kate. It’s – it’s not his mom. He wanted it to be, wanted that _so bad -_ “Hey, Ryan, it’s me,” Kate says.

“Oh, hey,” he says, pulls his knees up to his chest and puts his head down, closes his eyes. “What happened to your phone?” He draws in a slow breath, forces himself to keep it together. _Not Mom it wasn’t her she doesn’t want me back why did I ever think she would –_

“Maddy killed it. I just wanted to tell you, Brooke had her baby this morning! She just called me.”

“Um.” Ryan clings hard to this conversation, tries not to think, “Who is Brooke.”

“Third cousin, in Edmonton? We met her at that bed and breakfast place.”

“Oh. Cool.” _Don’t think about it, it wasn’t her, so what, it’s not like she was ever going to call, it was stupid – no don’t think don’t think -_

“It’s a little girl,” Kate goes on, and she tells him more – the name, probably, and something about Brooke’s other kid, and he doesn’t hear a word, just thinking _don’t cry don’t cry_ – until finally, Kate says she has to get Bentley ready for school, and hangs up. Ryan clenches his phone tight in his hand, can finally stop fighting tears. He thought she wanted him back, but he was _so stupid,_ why would she ever want him back. He hasn’t changed, he’s still the same thing, and he’s never _going_ to change, will always be this, and she’ll never want him.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, stands unsteadily and goes to get ready for class. He’s only been awake ten minutes and already today isn’t going well, and Ryan is _sick_ of this, so tired of things existing only to hurt him, how on any given day, he can be made miserable so _easily._

He manages to make it through his classes only with the promise of seeing Aaron in Forestry, telling himself _this will make it better,_ promising that over and over. He gets to Forestry early, takes out his textbook, and watches the people on the field outside while he waits. They’re running around with broomsticks and throwing a ball through stand-up hoops, which, what the _hell._ When he hears Aaron’s footsteps, he looks up eagerly, smiles before looking back down at his textbook so Aaron won’t see too much. He can’t plead with Aaron to make everything better, to promise he’ll live through this, but Aaron’s always managed to reassure him of everything he needs anyways, without even knowing what Ryan needed.

“Uh, what the hell are they doing down there?” Aaron asks as he pulls out the chair across from Ryan’s.

“What, the weirdos with the broomsticks?”

“No, Ry, the _other_ weirdos,” Aaron replies, and Ryan looks up, grins. He just loves that tone, the ones that’s practically outright affectionate.

“They’re playing that game from Harry Potter.”

“Well, right, but why the broomsticks?”

“I dunno… authenticity?” Ryan guesses, and Aaron laughs.

“Seems pointless if they can’t fly.

“Maybe you should go tell them that. ‘Excuse me, dumbasses, you’re not flying.’”

“Maybe I should. Seriously, though, what an inefficient way to run.” Aaron’s taken out his textbook, but doesn’t seem about to start studying, too amused by the people outside.

“Dude, they’re pretending they can _fly._ They’re not exactly the type to be bothered by something like efficiency, or how stupid they look.” This makes Aaron laugh, and Ryan grins, loves how normal this all feels. This is what he’s needed, all day today.

            He can never live without this again, doesn’t know what he would have _done –_ how would he have made it through today without this? This morning was just – just _so bad._ He needs to make sure they don’t fall apart again, can’t mess up anything, and – he needs to try everything he can, to make sure it’s just like before.   
            “Doing anything tonight?” he asks, and Aaron pauses in his highlighting. “Was thinking, we should go out.” He hopes that’s right, that’s what Aaron wants. Ryan can prove himself normal, they’ll go out and he won’t drink at all, definitely won’t – won’t do the same thing again. This will make sure they stay normal, once he re-does that night the right way.

“Really,” Aaron says, this tone Ryan’s never heard before. He cringes inwardly, just _knows_ Aaron’s thinking Ryan will fuck up again, but Ryan _won’t,_ he can be okay, he can do this right if he gets another chance.

“Yeah, I mean, we haven’t been in forever-”

“Well why the _fuck_ do you think that is?!” Aaron snaps, so _angry,_ and he’s slammed his book shut and stormed off before Ryan can say a thing.

 _Fuck._ Ryan bites down hard on his bottom lip, puts his head down on his arms, squeezes his eyes shut against tears. He was – was just trying to make everything normal, he’s trying _so hard,_ has such a fragile hold on everything he _needs,_ but – but they’ll never be normal again. How could he forget, that he ruined things _so much,_ he’s the one that ruined it all, because he lost control over how much he wanted to kiss Aaron, this is all his fault, will never stop being _his fault._

It’s all because of who he is, and that means he just _can’t ever fix it._

Even hours and hours later, he still can’t think about it without feeling like he’s going to break apart, because Aaron was just _so mad_ at him, he’s never _been_ like that before. He never gets angry at Ryan, _never,_ and here it is, the proof that they never were fixed, never can be. Ryan’s goes to bed early, but he’s still lying awake at one AM, just wants this to _stop,_ this feeling like he’s going to fall apart, barely keeping himself together. There’s just so much he wants to say, all these things he wants to beg and cry for. He just wants to be able to sleep and stop thinking about this, just for a little while, so he grabs a notebook off his desk and a pen, switches on his bedside lamp. He sniffles and bunches his pillow under his head, sets the notebook open to a new page on the bed beside him.

 _I really am sorry,_ he writes, _I never wanted to ruin us, can’t you see how hard I’m trying to fix it? I never meant to do that, and I’m so sorry I kissed you. You mean a lot to me, and I’d never have risked everything like that if I hadn’t been drunk. I really wish we could go back to the way we were, I really need you. You don’t understand how much, because I’ve never told you, but I really do – this is all I have, and I’ve never been able to tell you about it, and this is why, because I’d rather keep it to myself than lose you over it. I wish it didn’t happen this way – I really wish we could go back to normal. I really, really thought we could, I really want that._ Ryan pauses, tears brimming in his eyes. It’s just – just so _hard,_ even writing it. _I haven’t changed,_ he writes slowly, _I’m still the same, you’re just able to put a name to things now, and that doesn’t change me. You’ve known me forever, and I’ve always been this way. You’ve never known a me that wasn’t in love with you._ He can’t write anymore, the paper too blurry from the tears welled in his eyes, and he shoves the notebook away from him and turns off the light, buries his face in the pillow and sobs. It doesn’t matter what he writes because he’s never going to be able to say it, and even if he could – it wouldn’t change anything. 


	9. Chapter 9

The next week sucks. Ryan almost wishes he’d never gotten Aaron back, because this _hurts,_ losing him twice, going through all this again, always his fault. Fuck, how could he do this _again,_ ruin them again, make himself lose Aaron _again._ Ryan can’t stop himself from going back to Forestry all week, even though he knows Aaron won’t be coming back; he just can’t stop, can’t stand to let go of yet another place he used to feel like he belonged. Friday night a week later, he’s watching a really stupid movie about a scuba diver, bored to death because both his roommates are gone, and he doesn’t want to go out, doesn’t actually want to do anything. Someone knocks on the front door and he hops up eagerly, hopes it’s one of his roommates deciding to stick around for the weekend instead.

When he opens the door, though, it’s not one of them, it’s _Aaron._ Ryan suddenly can’t breathe, overwhelmed with fear and _relief,_ seeing Aaron here, _smiling_ at him.

“Hey,” Aaron says brightly, and Ryan just lets him in, struggling for words.

“Both my roommates are gone until Sunday,” he says, “it’s so fucking quiet here.” _Stay stay please stay,_ he wants to beg, doesn’t dare. Aaron’s back, _he’s back,_ what’s he doing here, _please don’t let him leave -_

“That’s why I’m here, I’m psychic,” Aaron says, and Ryan smiles. Maybe – maybe they’re okay, maybe it’s really going to be okay. Maybe Aaron’s really back, somehow knowing what Ryan needs and giving it to him like it’s second nature, here when Ryan never thought he’d be back again.

“Well, seeing as that’s your mission, you may as well stay until tomorrow,” Ryan says, freezes. Fuck, _fuck,_ he shouldn’t have said that, asked Aaron to stay over – Aaron just climbs onto the couch, grins up at him.

“Sure, whatcha wanna do?” he asks easily, and Ryan could sob in relief.

“Bunch of movie marathons on,” he replies, sitting back on the couch, not where he was before – that would be too close to where Aaron is now, and he doesn’t dare push it when he’s already _so lucky._

They play video games for a while, and then Aaron laughs and says _okay, you win_ when Ryan finds a horror movie marathon on TV. It’s not quite the same as they were originally – he used to sit closer as they did this, feel allowed to curl up under a blanket and hide his face against Aaron’s shoulder when the horror movies got unbearable gory, Aaron clutching Ryan’s wrist at all the sudden noises.

“There’s a reason I hate horror,” he says afterwards, following Ryan to his room so they can grab his laptop to find a less terrifying movie, and so Ryan can charge his phone, “it’s because it makes being at home alone fucking _terrifying.”_

“Pathetic,” Ryan teases, grinning over his shoulder at Aaron. “It’s just us here,” he says, and maybe his heart beats a little faster at that, but it’s not _like_ that. Fuck, though, he’d take anything, _Aaron’s here,_ he’s overwhelmingly happy about it. “No ghosts, I promise. Except the one that lives in the kitchen-”

“Hilarious.”

As Ryan looks around his room for his phone charger, Aaron sits on the bed to watch. Ryan can’t stop glancing over at him, and at first it’s just because he can’t believe Aaron’s really back here, but then he notices the worried look on Aaron’s face, and oh, fuck, what’s Aaron thinking? Is it bad? It has to be bad. Oh, please, don’t let it be bad-

“Hey, Ryan,” Aaron says, and _oh, fuck,_ that means it’s bad, that voice –

“What?” Ryan asks tentatively, doesn’t turn around, because Aaron will see all the fear on his face.

“You’ve, um. Is something wrong?” Aaron asks. Ryan can’t breathe, doesn’t turn to look at him.

“No,” he says quickly, hopes Aaron will believe it, blatant lie that it is.

“Yeah, right.”

“It’s nothing.” He looks down at his desk, one hand tight around the side of it, and he’s not going to fall apart, he’s _not going to ruin them again._ He couldn’t _take_ that.

“Look, I – I know that – the thing that happened, it… fucked things up,” Aaron says. Ryan turns towards him, can’t stand the uncertainty on his face. Aaron can’t – can’t even say it, can’t say _you kissed me,_ like he _hates_ it, and fuck, that _hurts –_

“I know,” Ryan says quietly, just wants to beg _can’t we just forget it happened I’m just so sorry why isn’t that enough-_

“I don’t get it, I thought – can’t we just move on from – that thing, that happened?” Aaron says, and – and _fuck him,_ why does he have to _do_ this, make everything so much _harder?_ How much does he expect Ryan to be able to _take?_

“Move on?” Ryan snarls, because how can Aaron _do_ this? How can he expect so _much_ of Ryan – all Ryan ever does is live through disasters, why can’t _one single thing_ he wants be okay? Why can’t he just _have_ this? He’s really not asking for a lot, this is it, just this. “Fuck _you,_ okay, what more do you _want_ from me?! Isn’t it enough, what I have to do?” He cuts off, can’t keep getting angry or he’s just going to break down, can’t do this, can’t handle _anything._ “I get that we’re gonna pretend it never happened, okay?” he says, quieter, can’t manage more, “So why can’t _you_ get that I can’t – I can’t make myself forget it. That’s just asking too goddamn much.” He can’t just _not be in love with Aaron._ This – it’s part of him, it’s like when his parents wanted him to just stop being gay – everyone wants just an altered version of him, wants to fix him to make him what they want, why can’t _anyone_ just take him the way he is? Why isn’t he good enough for _anything?_

“I wish it never happened,” Aaron says softly, like this is _hard_ for him, and – and he has _no fucking idea,_ what that means, what it is for something to be _so fucking painful_ that every day hurts, that nothing is okay anymore, feels like it never will be again.

“How the _fuck_ do you think I feel?” he snaps back, hates himself for being so angry, can’t _help_ it.

“I don’t know,” Aaron says, nearly pleading, “Just – tell me – what, I don’t know, everything.”

“You already know everything,” Ryan says weakly, sinks down on the side of the bed beside Aaron. What more does Aaron _want_ from him? Ryan’s already broken open and wrecked, he can’t do anything else. “I’ll do whatever, okay? Anything. But you can’t fucking expect me to… to do _more._ Because I’ve _tried,_ and I fucking _can’t,_ Aaron! I wish I could, I really, really fucking do, okay?” Doesn’t he _know_ how badly Ryan wishes everything wasn’t so fucking hard? He doesn’t _want_ to be this way, he would never choose this for himself, it takes everything from him, makes everything end up hurting him in the end. Ryan buries his face in his hands, just wants Aaron to _stop,_ wants everyone to stop _hating him_ for things he can’t help, and he’s never wanted Aaron to leave him before, and he wants Aaron to make everything better, but maybe – maybe the only way is if Aaron just leaves him alone. “Just go away,” he whispers, struggles not to cry.

“Ryan – I’m sorry, I am, I didn’t – I don’t know what to do, okay? I mean – I can really try and – just forget that everything happened, and we can be normal again,” Aaron says, but Ryan _knows_ now, that’s not true, it’s just _not true –_ they can never go back to normal, because this _always happens._ He keeps wrecking them, Aaron wants Ryan to stop being in love with him and Ryan doesn’t know how to _do that._ And it’s just all his _fault._ He hates himself when he starts to cry, but he can’t stop, sobbing hard because this is just all so, so hard. He misses the way they used to be, why did he have to ruin it?

“I ruined everything,” he chokes out, “If I’d never- we’d still – everything would be fine.” _All his fault._ Aaron wraps his arms around Ryan, though, hugs him close, and it doesn’t _help,_ because all it does is show Ryan how much he needs Aaron, how perfect the thing he’s destroyed is.

“This meant the fucking world to me,” he manages, “Fuck, Aaron, what more do you want from me?” _I’ll do anything,_ he’s begged over and over, just wants Aaron to say something he can actually _do,_ something that isn’t _just stop being you._

“I’m sorry,” Aaron says, and Ryan aches to bury his face against Aaron’s neck and cling to him, beg him to make it all better, stop asking him for things he can’t do. Why doesn’t Aaron _get_ it, that Ryan would change if he could, but he just _can’t._

Ryan forces himself to stop crying, chokes down sobs so he can look at Aaron without breaking down. “I’m just… gonna go to bed now,” he says, and Aaron nods, lets go of him and slides off the bed. Ryan wants to grab him back, hang onto him tight, and _oh,_ if Aaron leaves, Ryan can’t survive it, he can’t lose Aaron tonight, he _can’t._ He just loves Aaron so much, needs him more than anything. “Will you stay?” he asks timidly, hopes so desperately Aaron won’t say no.

“Yeah,” Aaron says, so gentle it almost makes Ryan start to cry again. He wants Aaron to climb into his bed with him, hold him close and promise he’ll be okay, Ryan wants so badly to hear it from someone else, for someone to believe it because he doesn’t. He switches off the light once Aaron gets across to the room to the couch against the wall, gets under one of the blankets. Ryan crawls under his own covers, buries his face in his pillow.  

 _Can’t we just move on,_ Aaron had said, and why does he have to want that, why can’t it be okay that Ryan feels like this? He wouldn’t do anything, he’d do his best to hide it again, why is everything he can do never enough? Ryan tries to be quiet when he cries, doesn’t want Aaron to hear him, but it’s not like it matters. He knows everything now, and just like Ryan always feared it would, it ruined them.  

0o00o0o

When Ryan wakes up, Aaron is gone, and Ryan isn’t surprised at all. Aaron needs him to change, for them to be friends, and Ryan _can’t,_ so Aaron’s gone. Ryan sniffles and looks away from where Aaron had slept, goes to get dressed instead. As he walks up to the kitchen, though, he hears Aaron’s voice as he talks to Brett, and _oh, he stayed, he stayed –_ maybe this means Ryan gets another chance.

It doesn’t really matter, though; Ryan knows he could have a thousand chances and he’ll never be able to do it, never be able to keep from ruining them, because there are some things he just can’t change. He’s tried, tried _so hard,_ and this is it – this is all he can do. But maybe he can act normal, maybe he can hide it all again, maybe if he believes it enough, he can at least pretend convincingly.

“Hey guys,” he says when he walks into the kitchen, wanders over to where Brett’s standing before the refrigerator. “You’re back early.”

“Yeah, I have a paper to do I forgot about, figured I should get on that.”

“Oh, that sucks.”

            “I know, right?” Brett looks at him a little too long, too much concern on his face, and Ryan looks away. “What’re you guys doing tonight?” Brett asks.

“We should all go out,” Aaron says. Ryan can only look at him, doesn’t know what this _is –_ is this Aaron saying they’re okay again? Even if they are, though – how long could it last? “It’d be fun.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Ryan says, wishes he could ask _what do you want me to do, what shouldn’t I do,_ but maybe the answer is simpler than he wants: _stop being in love, don’t fuck up like last time._

Once Brett leaves, Ryan goes to sit across the table from Aaron. He reaches over to take the street hockey ball Aaron’s playing with, doesn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron says, gaze on the table.

“It’s fine.” He’s fine – he feels like he’s been torn apart, like everything he _is_ is wrong, but he’ll live, he always does, and it hurts, but he shouldn’t really expect differently.

“But I-”

“Forget it,” Ryan says firmly. Aaron wants to move on – he’ll move on.  Aaron doesn’t want him the way he is, fine; Ryan can hide that part, loves Aaron too much to let go.  

The day only gets worse, but Ryan’s kind of used to that by now. He goes with Brett that evening to meet up with Aaron and some other people at Venue; this wouldn’t be so bad, is an important step on the way back to normalcy, but then that guy he saw Aaron talking to before shows up, introduces himself as Jordan.

Jordan, as in the Jordan who texted Aaron, Aaron _dated_ him, and Ryan’s already been hurt so badly, this shouldn’t be so terrible, but he’s _devastated._ Aaron – he dated a guy, and Ryan thought it was bad enough being hopelessly in love with Aaron without a chance with him at all because Aaron wasn’t even into guys, but this, this is _worse._ Now he knows Aaron is into guys, and since Aaron now knows Ryan’s gay _and_ in love with him, Ryan realises the only thing that could make this hurt more – Aaron just doesn’t like him in that way. It’s not that Aaron can’t like him, it’s that he’s not good enough, it’s more Ryan’s fault than it ever has been.

And this guy, Jordan – he’s perfect. He has an easy smile and green eyes and he’s happy even when they’re standing in line, and Ryan _hates_ him for it, for being so much better than him.

“It’s kind of cold out,” Jordan says, seemingly to Ryan, because everyone but him and Aaron is further back in line, talking about something else. Ryan bites back a snappish reply, but Aaron smiles at Jordan a little and it _kills_ Ryan.

“Everyone else seems able to handle it,” Ryan snaps back, fails at being pleasant. He just – just can’t stand it, Aaron _likes_ this guy, this Jordan just walked into Aaron’s life and swept him away, he’s taking Aaron away from Ryan, why does he have to _do_ that. Ryan wishes he was enough to make Aaron want to stay.

“I know, right?” Jordan says cheerfully, “even the chicks in the really short dresses. I have no idea how they don’t freeze – hers is nice, though, so I get that,” he nods towards a girl walking by.

“Only if you have no taste.” Ryan can’t really keep himself from being angry, should probably just shut the fuck up and stop, but does Jordan get to kiss Aaron? Will Aaron actually want it from him, not throw Jordan out of his life for it?

“I admittedly don’t know much about girls’ fashion,” Jordan says, apparently impossible to discourage. “I’m okay dressing myself, at least.”

“Couldn’t tell,” Ryan says, but Jordan just laughs.

“I was almost late because I couldn’t find this shirt. I just really wanted it.”

“Dunno why.”

Jordan looks ahead of them, up at the club.  “I’ve never been here before.”

“Everyone has,” Ryan says flatly.

“I like this place,” Aaron says to Jordan, almost warmly, and it makes Ryan want to _die._ Fuck, why doesn’t he deserve that? Why does this guy get what he’s always wanted? He’s still talking with Aaron, and why did Aaron make Ryan come, if this was what he’d have to suffer through?

“Hey,” Ryan tugs on Aaron’s sleeve gently.

“What?”

“Um. How much longer is the line?” He doesn’t care, wishes they could just leave, but he’s afraid he’ll do something pathetic if Aaron keeps nearly ignoring him, probably break down in tears.

“I dunno, Ry. Five minutes, maybe?”

“What’s the DJ like here?” Jordan asks. Ryan ignores this, looks down at the ground. He doesn’t want to know Jordan any better, doesn’t want to be able to identify what exactly it is that makes Jordan so, so much better than him.

They finally get in, and Ryan can’t help his irritability whenever Jordan tries to talk to him; why won’t Jordan just leave him alone? Every good-natured offering is just saying _this is why I’m better, because I’m like this and you’re not._

“C’mon,” Aaron says to him after a while, tugs on Ryan’s wrist. “Let’s go get drinks.” Ryan follows, so relieved when Jordan isn’t asked to come too. Aaron pulls him along by the wrist for a while, like he forgot he’s still holding on, until he suddenly lets go.

“There you guys are!” Brett yells out, coming over, “what’re you guys getting?”

“Dunno yet,” Aaron replies, “you?” he asks Ryan. Ryan shrugs, looks away. Why the _fuck_ would he drink near Aaron again?

“Nothin’.”

“Stupid question,” Brett laughs. Ryan’s been out with him before; Brett knows Ryan  doesn’t drink much. “What about you, Aaron?”

“Beats me,” Aaron says, “but, line’s so long I have plenty of time. Could memorise the beer list in that amount of time.”

Ryan likes this better, waiting around with Aaron, far away from Jordan and his stupid pretty green eyes and perfect smile. They do eventually have to go back, and Ryan does his best to be civil, he really does. Jordan asks someone else what their favourite drink is, looks at Ryan for an answer, too.

“PBR,” Ryan spits out.  

“Hipster beer?” Jordan says, and Ryan _hates_ it, hearing Jordan tease him the way Aaron does.

“What fucking ever,” Ryan growls. He looks away from Jordan, half listens as Annika complains about wanting to dance without creepy guys hitting on her.

“Go indulge her,” Aaron says to Ryan, hip-checks him gently. Ryan lets Annika lead him away, chattering to him happily. As he walks away, Jordan leans over to talk to Aaron, so close. Annika puts Ryan’s hands on her hips as she dances, but tilts her head back to talk to him.

“Why don’t you like Jordan?” she asks.

“I don’t not,” he claims, knows it sounds like a lie.

“Is it cuz he likes Aaron?”

“No,” this sounds even less convincing.

“Sweetie,” Annika squeezes his wrist, and this brief moment of feeling like someone’s really on his side, Ryan can’t _take_ it.

“He’s better for Aaron than I am,” he says, can barely get the words out. Before she can say anything, Aaron comes over, pulls Ryan away by the wrist.

“We’re going.”

“Okay,” Ryan nearly trips as he hurries to follow, and Aaron’s pulling him along like he just really wants to leave. Aaron doesn’t let go for a while, even as they’re walking down the street. He seems to notice about halfway down the block, lets go suddenly.

“Sorry,” he says, and Ryan just shrugs. They keep going, and once they turn the corner, it starts getting quieter.

“So, uh,” Ryan ventures after a while, “You never told me the Jordan you dated was a guy.” This is as close as he can get to _why didn’t you tell me you’re gay,_ can’t demand to know this when he couldn’t say it himself. _You should have told me,_ he thinks, because it would have been for Aaron and for himself. If Aaron had told him, Ryan wouldn’t have been scared to confess too, maybe he would have been a little less alone, but as good as Aaron has always been at knowing what he needs, Aaron didn’t know to do this.

“Well, yeah,” Aaron sounds almost confused, as if Ryan should have known. “He, uh, is.”

“Oh.” Aaron doesn’t seem scared at all, and it’s always been like this, Aaron’s life easier than his own. Everything works out for him, it just makes sense that this kind of confession doesn’t bring him to his knees, leave him sobbing and broken.

They find the next busstop, and Ryan sits beside Aaron on the bench, careful not to sit so close they touch.

“I’m sorry I was an asshole to him,” he offers up. He hates Jordan, wants to _be_ him, but if Aaron likes him – what if hurting Jordan is hurting Aaron?

“Don’t worry about it. He’s a jerk.”

“Did he- do something? Just now?” If he did, _fuck him,_ how dare he hurt Ryan’s Aaron? He’s lucky enough to have Aaron like him, how could he _do_ something like this – Aaron shakes his head no, though. Ryan sighs out a breath, leans back against the wall of the busstop shelter.

He wants to ask _why did you want him and not me,_ almost says it, but stays silent. The only good thing Ryan’s ever had is how he can be sure of what he feels, a decisiveness that lately does little more than damn him, and it doesn’t feel like a good thing now, either, because he just feels so surely that it doesn’t _matter_ why Jordan’s better. Ryan doesn’t want to know why; it’s not like he’ll ever be able to make Aaron want him. 


	10. Chapter 10

Ryan doesn’t know how many more Werewolves games he’ll be able to suffer through. Aaron’s still playing on offense, and maybe this is permanent, maybe defense is like Ryan to him – some kind of phase, just not the same anymore. They lose zero to twelve, and Aaron lingers to talk to a few of their teammates, Ryan waiting for him until they can finally leave. The parking lot is nearly empty, still some snow around, and it’s quiet after the last of their teammates say goodbye and walk away.

Aaron opens the trunk of his car and they toss their stuff inside, but then Aaron groans in exasperation. “Forgot a stick,” he says.

“Door’s still unlocked, go get it.” Ryan sits on the lip of the trunk to wait, slides back to sit in the compact trunk. He’d rather wait outside than in the car, because being alone in a dark car just seems like a terrifying prospect; maybe he watches too many horror movies, whatever. “I’ll wait.”

“You better,” Aaron smiles, tosses the keys at him before heading back into the rink. Ryan sighs out a slow breath, breath a fog in the cold air. It’s only their first game back, but he wants it to be his last one, wishes he could at least believe that for a while. He always comes back, for Aaron, and even this is more than he has in any other aspect in his life. They may be falling apart, but at least Ryan’s allowed to keep coming back. He just – wishes there were a point when he could say _this is the last time I get hurt,_ that it isn’t just _one more time,_ a promise he just keeps breaking to himself.

Aaron comes back with his stick in hand, puts it into the trunk beside Ryan. “Good to go?” Ryan asks, looking up at him. Sometimes he hates how everything reminds him of something, how this makes him think of the time they drove to Chilliwack and took a break for lunch at some little parking lot by the highway, sitting in the trunk of Aaron’s car.

“Ryan,” Aaron says, too quiet, “I’m sorry.”

“For forgetting your stick?” Ryan sits up a little, scoots forward a few inches.

“No. For… for ruining us. For the way I feel, and how I can’t change it.”

Ryan clenches his jaw, looks away. He’s just – just so sick of everything being different, of everything being his fault, just wants one place where he can feel safe from blamed for who he is.

“Is it really such a bad thing to put up with?” he asks miserably, biting his lip hard, “I mean, you’re my best friend, why is this so fucking hard for you?” He risks a look up at Aaron, but it just hurts, it really does. Why can’t Aaron just be _okay_ with him? “Don’t you fucking understand what it means to be best friends?”

“Ryan,” Aaron says, some kind of pleading, but Ryan shakes his head, doesn’t want _excuses,_ because all they say is _I’m just not okay with who you are._

“No, okay? Just – come _on,_ why did you do all this to me?” Fuck, he really doesn’t want to cry again, that’s all it feels like he can do, reduced to just this. He’s just – just gone through _so fucking much,_ when will it be enough? There were days of losing Aaron for no reason and a summer of wrong silence and getting yelled at and crying constantly, and Ryan can’t _take this._ “How _could_ you even do all this? I’m your _fucking best friend!_ You – you avoided me, and I had no _fucking idea_ why, you  don’t talk to me all goddamn summer, you put up with me for a while, you disappear, you fuck with me _all the fucking time –_ how much do you think I can _take?”_ His voice hitches as he struggles not to yell, and Aaron isn’t saying anything, all Ryan wants is Aaron to tell him how to fix everything, why can’t he _do_ that, any way that isn’t _stop being you,_ because that’s just not _fair._ “Why can’t you just get it? I can’t _help it,_ don’t you think I would if I could? Why the fuck would I want to feel like this, if this is what happens because of it?” It all suddenly hurts so much more, why would Aaron blame him for this? Does he think Ryan _wants_ this? How could Ryan ever want this, all it does is make him lose everything, _everything._ “I can’t help it, it’s not my fault,” he says weakly. It’s _not his fault._

“Ryan,” Aaron says, “I’m sorry, so, so sorry. I wish you never found out.”

“Found out what?” Ryan asks, rubs at his eyes with the back of his hand. Fuck, please don’t let him cry, he really doesn’t want to, not again.

“What?”

“Found out what? That I kissed you? What does that even matter? You’d still know that I did it, even if I don’t. You’d still have figured it all out.”

“No,” Aaron says, this tone that’s even more wrong, so quiet and regretful, “Ryan, found out I’m in love with you.”

Ryan can’t – can’t understand, that’s not _possible,_ how could Aaron – how could he – “Oh,” Ryan whispers, “um – ah –” he just – _how –_ he reaches a hand towards Aaron and Aaron catches it with his own, and then _oh, God,_ leans in and kisses Ryan. He means it, he really _means it,_ Ryan sighs in relief and arches up towards Aaron. He’s missed kissing Aaron, and this is so much better, is perfect, is _Aaron wanting him,_ always wanting him just the way he is. Ryan moans helplessly as Aaron winds an arm around his back to tug him a little closer, and Ryan clings to Aaron’s shirt, never wants to let go now that he’s really allowed to hold on.

“Just – c’mere,” Aaron says, helps Ryan climb out of the trunk and wraps his arms around him, holds Ryan so comfortingly tight. “I’m sorry,” Aaron says softly, “for everything I did. I should’ve – done everything differently.”

“It’s okay,” Ryan says, smiles. It really is, he’s impossibly lived through this, come out on the other side to find Aaron waiting for him, _wanting_ him. “We’re back together now. But, you know. Better. More. I’ve loved you for such a long time, always felt like I was supposed to – to just be with you.” He thinks for a second he said too much, but Aaron smiles at him and nods, like he said something _right._ “Can I?” Ryan asks tentatively, “Kiss you?”

“Please, Ry,” Aaron says hopefully, and Ryan leans in to kiss him again, slow like he’s always wanted, just _loves_ this, how gentle Aaron is and how tightly Aaron’s holding him, like letting him go would be the worst thing in the world. “I’m just so sorry about everything I did,” Aaron murmurs, cups Ryan’s face in his hands to kiss him again. “Fuck, Ryan, I was so bad to you, you didn’t deserve all that, you’re perfect, it was my fault.”

“It wasn’t mine?” Ryan asks, knows he sounds desperately hopeful, but he just – just wants this to not be his fault, to know that maybe he did something right.

“Of course not,” Aaron pulls him close again, hugs Ryan tight against him, “I’m so glad you kissed me, I just wish I wasn’t so stupid about it. I just – fuck, Ryan, I’m _so sorry.”_

“It’s okay,” Ryan smiles at him, just so _relieved,_ this wasn’t his fault, he’s really okay, he did something _right,_ this most important thing. 

It’s starting to get even colder so they leave the rink, Aaron turning the car’s heater up ridiculously high just like he always does.  It feels like normal, until it feels better, Aaron leaning over to kiss him at the stoplight. When they get to Ryan’s building, Aaron kisses him again, long and slow until Ryan’s whimpering and grabbing at him.

“I just,” Aaron says softly, “really don’t want to leave you.” He looks torn up over this, his hand on the back of Ryan’s neck as Aaron leans in to kiss him again, like he can’t get enough. “I never do,” Aaron says, so quiet Ryan almost doesn’t hear it.

“Can you stay?” he asks, and Aaron smiles brilliantly.

“I’d like that.” He kisses Ryan once more, pauses. “cuz, when I’m not with you. I just miss you so bad.”

“Please stay,” Ryan pleads, just – afraid, maybe, that if he looks away, if he lets Aaron go home, this will all go away, this will have never happened.

“Yeah, c’mon,” Aaron smiles at him, gets out of the car, because he’s really going to stay, he _is._ He carries Ryan’s hockey stick for him into the building, and Ryan’s glad to find the apartment empty when they go in. There are two post-its on the wall by the door, one reading _out getting drunk with ultimate team, back tomorrow,_ and the other says _staying night w Kristi,_ so both his roommates are gone all night.

“You still have some clothes you forgot at my place,” Aaron says as he gets dressed for bed, borrowing clothes from Ryan’s dresser, “you know, in case you were wondering where your favourite shirt went.”

“I kinda was wondering.”

“I kept meaning to give it back, but, uh. Didn’t really want to.” Aaron sits on the end of the bed, watching as Ryan pulls off his shirt next before him. Aaron makes a pained little noise, reaches up to brush his fingertips over Ryan’s tattoo. “I wish you didn’t regret it,” he says quietly.

“I don’t.” Ryan thinks of the tattoo shop in Toronto, the empty place beside him, no one holding his hand. “I got it on purpose. I – I lied to you about being drunk. I just didn’t think – you’d want me to have it.”

“Ry,” Aaron breathes, “it’s what convinced me to try again, because I thought – maybe some part of you didn’t hate me.” `He leans up to press a kiss over Ryan’s tattoo, and Ryan whimpers, wants to climb into Aaron’s lap and kiss him for every day they spent apart, every prick of the needle that made Ryan wish Aaron was there to see him through it. He’s just – just _so glad_ he got his tattoo, though, because it brought Aaron back to him, made him whole again the day Aaron came back.

“I never hated you,” Ryan promises, something he never thought he’d have to say, always thought Aaron would need to hear _I’m sorry I love you,_ not this promise, need Ryan to hide what he feels, but Aaron’s worried about something Ryan’s never, never felt.

His heart’s beating faster as he crawls into bed beside Aaron, pausing before everything, all this new permission like walking over possibly thin ice. He’s just – afraid to put too much hope on anything, especially something he wants _so much._ Aaron shows him what to do, though, sets a light hand on Ryan’s side. “Can I?” he asks in a whisper, winds his arm slowly around Ryan. Ryan nods and Aaron sighs out a relieved breath, pulls Ryan in against his chest, holds him close. Ryan cuddles in against him happily, clings tight. _You know it’s me?_ he almost needs to ask, _you’re sure I’m the one that you want? You know everything, are you sure it’s still okay?_

“I don’t know how to tell you how sorry I am,” Aaron murmurs, “I feel _so bad,_ Ry, I was the worst to you. To _you,_ of all people, just makes it worse.”

“Why?” Ryan asks, doesn’t understand.

“Because you’re _you,_ you’re the most important thing. I just – I was so scared when I realised I was in love with you. It was just so sudden, like, I’d somehow never realised it all this time but I always was. Did you – you knew?” he asks, sounds so pained by this. Ryan nods, closes his eyes.

“Always.” He can’t remember a day when he had any kind of realization; it just happened like everything prior was building towards it, like there was no way this couldn’t happen. He remembers all the days he struggled with it, although he wasn’t scared of it until this year. Being in love with a guy has always scared him, but the thought of _but it’s Aaron_ always made it a little better, steadied him. It wasn’t until he found out he’d kissed Aaron that being in love with _him_ became terrifying, became something that could destroy them.

“I didn’t, until I couldn’t stop thinking about you kissing me. I thought you regretted it, and it was so bad, and I was just so fucking scared, to find out I like guys, _love you,_ I just – fucked up.” Aaron kisses the top of his head, squeezes him tight. “I just want you to know I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Ryan promises, tilts his face up to look at Aaron. “It wasn’t my fault?”

“Not at all.” Aaron kisses him like he’s making a promise, wants Ryan to know every word. “We should go to sleep,” Aaron suggests quietly. He’s always the one to say it, oddly concerned with their well-being when he was notorious for forgetting rules. Ryan’s never heard it like this, though, curled up with Aaron’s arms around him, the way he’s always wanted to fall asleep. The words are the same, though; they’re soft and affectionate, and they sound like _I love you,_ have always sounded just like that.


	11. Chapter 11

It’s not long before it’s nearly graduation, and it feels like things are finally going _right_ for Ryan. He’s nearly done school, he has a job lined up, and Aaron he’s still _here,_ feels like he’s always going to be. They feel like _them_ again, but in this whole new way that means Ryan spends the night with him and Aaron kisses him all the time and for once, Ryan can finally feel like Aaron can know _everything_ and will still be here, even knowing it all.

A few weekends before grad, Ryan’s over at Aaron’s, lying on the couch while Aaron sorts through DVDs; they’re both in the process of finding new apartments, and Aaron’s roommate is moving out sooner, and their DVD collections have become hopelessly mixed together.

“I mean, does it even matter?” Ryan asks, “you’ve all got the same kinda stuff anyways.”

“Except if I’m ever caught dead with a _Spiderman_ movie in mine, my rep will be crushed.”

“Right, because the mockumentaries add to street cred.”

“They’re _cool.”_ Aaron scoots over to the couch, leans over to kiss Ryan’s cheek. “I know you secretly think so, you little fuck.”

“You underestimate how long I’d deny it for. They’re pretty dorky.” He shifts onto his side so he can kiss Aaron better, can’t help grabbing for him and clinging. Aaron doesn’t seem to mind, whimpers when he does it.

“You know, I’ve got a surprise, by the way,” Aaron says.

“What is it?”

“I dunno, should I tell you now?”

“ _Yes.”_

“Naah,” Aaron grins, “maybe you should have to be patient.”

_“Aaaaron.”_

“Alright, c’mon,” Aaron gets to his feet, holds his hand out to Ryan to pull him up. “Field trip.”

The field trip takes them closer to downtown, where Aaron parks on the street, leads Ryan down the sidewalk like he knows exactly where he’s going. “So, you remember I took a final last week?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Didn’t strike you as odd that it was my sixth one?”

“Was it?” Ryan tries to think back, but can’t keep track, between his and Aaron’s and one of his was rescheduled once too and there was a second seating for one of Aaron’s -

“It was,” Aaron says happily, “because, I was coming to do this instead.” They’ve reached an apartment building, and Aaron buzzes one of the apartments.

“C’mon up!” a girl’s voice chirps through the intercom. They head inside, and the lobby’s pretty cute, but Ryan has trouble noticing, because Aaron’s reached over to hold his hand, and that makes Ryan forget where he is.

They take the elevator upstairs, and Aaron leads Ryan down a hallway, knocks on one of the doors. A really tall blonde girl opens it, and she beams at them as she lets them in.

            “This is Larissa,” Aaron tells Ryan, “it’s her apartment - I’ll explain in a sec,” he adds, squeezes Ryan’s hand. “This is Ryan,” he tells Larissa.  
            “The boyfriend at last!” she says, smiles at him, and the best part is how proud Aaron looks, Ryan _loves_ it.  
            “Nice to meet you,” Ryan says, doesn’t get what’s going on, but it’s pretty alright by him.   
            “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything,” she tells them, heads off.   
            “Alright, come see,” Aaron takes Ryan further into the living room, which is pretty nice, has a huge window. There are some boxes lined up by the wall. “She’s Tim’s girlfriend, and they’re moving in together into a bigger place in the building - her parents own it and rent the places out - and so the rent is _great.”_  
            “That’s awesome, so - are you gonna get it, or what?”

“Not exactly. I was thinking - do you want to move in together?” Aaron asks. Ryan’s kind of speechless, because - _move in together,_ that’s so _big,_ and that’s Aaron really committing to him, saying he wants to be with him, _stay_ with him, and _oh,_ Ryan can’t believe how _amazing_ that is. Aaron’s just giving him so _much_ with this, because it’ll be theirs, because after four years, Ryan’s finally going to have a real home, and it’ll be _theirs._ Last week, Aaron got a tattoo to match Ryan’s, Ryan’s jersey number and then his over his heart, and it’s all telling Ryan _I’m here I’m staying I love you,_ and Ryan’s never _been_ this happy before.

“I mean -I’m always at your place or you’re at mine, and I’d _really_ love it, and I know it’s a big step, so I understand, but I really want to and maybe you do too?”

“Yeah,” Ryan manages, then he yanks Aaron close and kisses him.

They’re able to move in within the week, the timing of it all staggeringly perfect, and exactly a week later, Ryan is unpacking things in the kitchen, listening to the increasingly worrying sounds of Aaron reassembling the bookcase he’d sworn was okay to be taken apart and put back together again. Ryan’s about to go over and check on him when his phone pings; it’s a text from Kate. He’d texted her this morning asking when Bentley’s little playoffs game was, and the text says _8:30, grown-up evening game for my baby!! B would looooooove to see u there!!! he’d just die if u brought aaron too, 2 of his hockey heroes at his game!_ It’s followed up by another text a few seconds later, _told M u might come and shes all “RYYYAANNN!” so u gotta now._

“You wanna take a break from almost getting yourself killed?” Ryan calls out.

“A break from my carpentry victory, you mean?” When Ryan goes into the living room, the thing kind of does resemble a shelf now, which is an improvement. Aaron’s frowning down at a piece of paper, although calling them instructions would be far less accurate than ‘self-drawn skewed representation of what the shelf used to look like.’ “I think I could use a break,” Aaron sighs out.

“Bentley’s hockey game’s today.”

“Oh man, I haven’t seen the little guy in like a year! Let’s go!” Aaron used to go with Ryan, when he’d go to Bentley’s games; Ryan hates even the memory of the conversation he had to have with Kate beforehand, making her promise to tell Aaron nothing about the situation with his parents. Ryan still hasn’t really gotten around to telling Aaron, albeit for different reasons now. He knows now that Aaron wouldn’t act anything like Ryan’s parents, but now, Ryan just doesn’t want to think about them, doesn’t want to bring it up because he wants to pretend that everything is as perfect as things with Aaron are.

They drive over to the rink, get there in time to see Bentley just as he’s finishing putting on all his little gear. “ _Ryan!”_ he shrieks, scrambles over to hug him, nearly tripping in his skates. “Ryan, are you gonna watch my game?”

“You bet,” Ryan drops down to his knees to hug Bentley, “see who I brought with me?” Bentley looks over Ryan’s shoulder, gasps.

“Aaron!” Bentley runs over to Aaron next, and Ryan stands, goes to find Kate. She’s collecting Bentley’s things from the bench among the other little kids.

“I’m so glad you could come,” she says, pulls Ryan into a hug, “all we heard about on the way over was how he was gonna score a goal so you could see how good he is. How’s your new place?”

“Awesome,” Ryan says, still grinning. Bentley interrupts when he comes running back over to finish putting on his gear, little teammates already starting over to the ice. When Ryan looks over, he sees Aaron’s been stopped by Kate’s husband and Madison, talking and laughing.

“Mummy says you live with Aaron,” Bentley says to Ryan.

“Yeah.” Ryan glances over to Kate for a little guidance. She seems unconcerned, just reaches down to help Bentley with his helmet.

“That’s cos Aaron is Ryan’s boyfriend, Bents,” she says, “like how Auntie Tegan lives with Marcus?”

“They have a _big_ house,” Bentley informs Ryan. “It’s in - Mummy, where?”

“Smithers. Gryph’s sister,” she reminds Ryan, but he’s still having trouble processing everything.

“Yeah! Do you and Aaron live by the ice rink?”

“It’s pretty close.”

 _“Wow,”_ Bentley exclaims. He puts on his little gloves, grabs his stick. “I’m gonna go play!”

“Have fun,” Ryan says, hugs him before he goes. He’s still kind of dazed; it’s just - so _weird,_ because Bentley’s going to grow up thinking that being gay as is as normal as being straight, and if Ryan had just been taught that, if his parents had just believed that, things would have been so _different,_ wouldn’t _hurt._

“Hey,” he hears, Aaron coming over and slipping an arm around his waist, “you remember our first team? I can’t believe we were this _small,_ wow.” He shakes his head, smiles at Ryan, “my mom wanted to sign me up for soccer instead, but I was insistent that it had to be hockey, and thank God I did.”

“Yeah? How come?”

“Because of you,” Aaron says, andsometimes, Ryan can’t believe how happy he is now, but maybe he’s earned it, suffered so much because he’d end up with this, somewhere that nothing hurts and nothing is his fault, and he’s just so _happy._

Bentley’s team wins, and he even scores a goal, reenacts it for them as he’s taking off his gear afterwards. Ryan’s sitting on top of the storage cupboards, Aaron beside him, so they’re out of the way of the kids running around.

“So _cool!”_ Bentley reiterates, struggling out of his jersey, “did you see it? It was _cool!_ Like-” he tries to demonstrate the wraparound, nearly trips himself.

“I think he’s the next Crosby,” Aaron says, and Ryan grins.

“I think so too.” Aaron slings an arm around his shoulders, presses a quick kiss to his hair.

“Oh-” Ryan hears, Kate’s voice, “um - Mom? I thought - you guys- I thought you couldn’t come-”

“We canceled it!” Oh, God, that’s Ryan’s mother’s voice, and he cringes, presses in closer against Aaron, wants to plead _help me please please._ “We couldn’t find you guys in the stands, I think we were on the wrong side -”

“Hey,” Aaron says softly, “Ryan-”

“Gramma!” Bentley shrieks, runs over behind a crowd of people, “you came too? Everyone came to my game! Gramma, you’re here, and Grandpa’s here, and Daddy and Maddy and Ryan too and his boyfriend and also my Coach-”

Ryan wants to _leave,_ fucking _hide_ somewhere, but maybe she won’t notice him, maybe she won’t - but no, she’s found him, she’s crossing her arms and frowning and Ryan bites his lip hard, can’t say anything.

“I can’t _believe_ you,” she says, the first thing she’s said to him in years, also one of the last things she ever said to him, “Bentley’s so young and impressionable, what if he thinks this is _okay?”_ she says, and it _hurts,_ makes Ryan cringe back and look down. _It is okay,_ he wants to protest, because it _is,_ he’s finally so fucking happy and she’s _ruining it._ “We don’t want him to turn out like you,” she snaps, and oh, God, Ryan’s about to _cry._

“Mrs. T,” he hears, Aaron jumping in, “I think it’d be pretty great if a kid turned out like Ryan, I’ve known him my whole life, and he’s the best person I know. You raised a really perfect son.”

“He’s not my son,” Ryan’s mom says, and Ryan whimpers.

“Well, certainly not in the sense that he’s anything like you, thank God,” Aaron says, jumps down off the cupboard and turns to Ryan, stepping in so he’s between Ryan and his mom, “let’s go home, okay?” he says softly. Ryan wants to tell him _please,_ tell him _you defended me and no one’s ever done that before,_ tell him _I hate her why doesn’t she love me anymore,_ but he nods, knows he’d cry if he tried to say anything. He slides down, follows Aaron out of the rink.

“Should I find Kate?” Aaron asks softly, but Ryan shakes his head no.

“Don’t tell her.” He just - he never tells Kate exactly what their mother says to him, because she wants her kids to have grandparents, and he knows she’d side with him if she knew the full extent of things, and Ryan doesn’t want to rob her kids of something just because his parents hate him. They leave the rink, and Aaron pauses as the door closes.

“I could-” he starts, waves a hand back towards it.

“I want to go home.” He still feels on the verge of tears, but he’s not going to cry, he’s _not._

“Okay,” Aaron says, so gentle, “okay.”

Ryan’s silent for the drive home, grateful that Aaron doesn’t try to ask anything, that even when they’re home, he just nods when Ryan says “can we just go to bed?” Ryan gets ready really quickly, gets into bed while Aaron’s still brushing his teeth. His phone’s light is flashing on the nightstand, telling him he has messages, but Ryan just reaches out and flips it over, pulls the covers up higher. He doesn’t look up when Aaron gets in on the other side of the bed, feels Aaron scoot up against his back.

“Ryan,” he whispers, so concerned and sweet, and this, this is finally what makes Ryan start to cry. He buries his face against the pillow so Aaron won’t notice, but everything fucking _hurts,_ because this is _never_ going to be fixed, Ryan’s really, really never getting his family back. Aaron wraps an arm around him, hugs him tight. “Ryan, I’m so sorry you have to deal with that,” he says, “you don’t deserve it, you really don’t.”

“She always does that,” Ryan chokes out, “ _always.”_

“It’s happened before?”

“Four years now,” Ryan says, and Aaron makes a little whimpering sound.

“Oh my God, Ryan, I never knew that, why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to know, I didn’t want you to leave me too,” Ryan says, and fuck, how he’s crying _more._ He just didn’t want to be abandoned and he doesn’t want to be left all alone and he couldn’t take dealing with everything on his own but he had no _choice,_ so it wasn’t his _fault._

“Ryan, c’mere,” Aaron says softly, so gentle Ryan can’t stay away, just turns and buries his face against Aaron’s chest, sobbing. “You’re never gonna have to do this alone again, I promise. And you’re so brave and strong for getting through this, and you made it, Ryan,” he says, and this, this is what Ryan’s always needed to know. He’s been all alone, had no one to help him or defend him or protect him or comfort him, no one who knows everything that could tell him everything’s going to be okay, but maybe that’s over, maybe he really did make it, survive all the worst.

“It was just so hard,” he manages.

“I know, baby, I know. They’re _wrong,_ because you’re perfect and amazing and you don’t deserve any of the fucked-up stuff that’s happened to you, but you’re gonna be okay now, I promise. You’re perfect and I love you and you’re gonna be okay.” Ryan’s always felt like he’ll _never_ be okay, but somehow, after yet another crushingly painful thing has happened to him, somehow, he feels like maybe he will be.

It’s not until the next morning that he really, really believes it. He wakes up next to Aaron, and Aaron’s holding him, still here and still in love with him. “Hey,” Aaron whispers, presses a kiss to Ryan’s hair, “looking forward to another day of unpacking and watching me perfectly assemble that goddamn shelf?” Ryan grins at this, pulls Aaron down to kiss him for this perfect thing he’s said, because Aaron somehow knows that Ryan feels stripped raw from yesterday and needs to hear that he’s home, that he’s here and they’re going to spend the day at home, making it theirs. Ryan snuggles in closer against Aaron, slips his hand under Aaron’s shirt to trace his fingertips over where he knows Aaron’s tattoo is, just like Ryan’s.

“I made it,” Ryan whispers, half to himself, because he _did._ He made it through so fucking much, he’s come out on the other side okay, won’t ever be alone again, because Aaron’s here and Ryan doesn’t hurt so much when he has Aaron, who knows everything and loves him anyways.

“Yeah,” Aaron says gently, “you did, Ryan.”

Somehow, impossibly, Ryan’s really made it. He’s survived everything ended up here, a home that’s really _his,_ where there’s no blame and he’s allowed to be himself wholly and completely, where Aaron loves him, where Ryan can always come home.

 


End file.
